B 


THE  WRITINGS  OF 
HARRIET   BEECHER  STOWE 

WITH  BIOGRAPHICAL   INTRODUCTIONS 

PORTRAITS,  AND  OTHER 

ILL  USTRA  TIONS 

IN   SIXTEEN  VOLUMES 
VOLUME   XVI 


HOUGHTON/MIFFLIN  &  CO. 


STORIES  AND   SKETCHES 
FOR  THE  YOUNG 


BY 


HARRIET   BEECHER    STOWE 


CAMBRIDGE 

at  tlje  Kiberstoe 

M  DCCC  XCVI 


Copyright,  1855, 
Br  PHILLIPS,  SAMPSON  &  CO. 

Copyright,  1867, 
BY  TICKNOE  &  FIELDS. 

Copyright,  1881,  1883,  1895, 
BY  HARRIET   BEECHER   STOWE. 

Copyright,  1896, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


an&  tfiftp 
printefc.    Dumber.... 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY  NOTE vii 

QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE. 

THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS 1 

THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE    ....  11 

THE  HISTORY  OF  Tip-Top 19 

Miss  KATY-DID  AND  Miss  CRICKET 29 

MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF 36 

THE  SQUIRRELS  THAT  LIVED  IN  A  HOUSE        ....  42 

HUM,  THE  SON  OF  Buz 49 

OUR  COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS .   .  58 

OUR  DOGS 66 

DOGS  AND  CATS 102 

AUNT  ESTHER'S  RULES 110 

AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES 114 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  AND  HIS  DOGS 121 

COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  AGAIN 127 

THE  DIVERTING  HISTORY  OF  LITTLE  WHISKEY  .        .        .  134 

LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW •  139 

THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 233 

A  DOG'S  MISSION. 

CHAP.  I.  THE  OLD  HOUSE  AND  THE  OLD  WOMAN     .        .        /  258 

II.   THE  DOG  TAKES  REFUGE  WITH  THE  OLD  WOMAN  .  264 

III.  SHE  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  is  A  PROVIDENCE      .        .  268 

IV.  HE    MAKES    HIMSELF    AGREEABLE          ....  271 

V.  BLUE  EYES  COMES  TO  SEE  HIM 275 

VI.  THE  WOMAN  WHO  HATES  DOGS         ....  279 

VII.  BLUE  EYES  PURSUES  HER  ADVANTAGE        .        .        .  282 

VIII.  A  BRIGHT  SATURDAY  AFTERNOON    ....  285 

IX.  A  JOYFUL  SUNDAY 290 

X.  WHERE  is  BLUE  EYES  ? 292 

XI.  THE  THANKSGIVING  DINNER 296 

LULU'S  PUPIL 300 

THE  DAISY'S  FIRST  WINTER      . 306 


M76065 


vi  CONTENTS 

OUR  CHARLEY  AND  THE  STORIES  TOLD  HIM. 

OUR  CHARLEY 313 

TAKE  CARE  OF  THE  HOOK 323 

A  TALK  ABOUT  BIRDS 326 

THE  NEST  IN  THE  ORCHARD 334 

THE  HAPPY  CHILD 339 

LITTLE  CAPTAIN  TROTT 346 

CHRISTMAS  ;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY 355 

LITTLE  FRED,  THE  CANAL  BOY 365 

The  frontispiece  (Mrs.  Stowe  and  her  daughters)  is  from  a  daguerreotype 
taken  in  1850. 

The  vignette  (Mrs.  Stowe's  first  Hartford  home)  is  from  a  drawing  by 
Charles  Copeland. 


INTKODUCTOEY  NOTE 

HE  would  be  an  inattentive  reader  of  Mrs.  Stowe's 
writings  who  did  not  see  how  irresistibly  she  would  be 
drawn  not  only  to  the  portraiture  of  children  but  to  stories 
for  their  pleasure.  She  was  distinctly  a  domestic  woman  ; 
and  she  was,  moreover,  so  acutely  sensible  of  the  world  of 
nature,  loving  its  flowers,  trees,  and  all  animate  and  inani 
mate  objects,  that  her  active  mind  and  intelligent  sympathy 
could  scarcely  fail  to  seize  upon  this  material  when  she 
came  to  write  for  the  instruction  or  the  diversion  of  that 
part  of  humanity  which  lives  nearest  the  earth. 

The  Mayflower,  which  has  yielded  so  many  evidences  of 
Mrs.  Stowe's  native  proclivities  in  her  early  life,  is  drawn 
upon  here  for  two  stories,  the  last  in  the  volume  j  but  a 
good  many  of  the  most  characteristic  creature  stories,  those 
included  under  Queer  Little  People,  were  first  contributed 
to  Our  Young  Folks  and  afterward  gathered  in  a  volume, 
which  was  published  in  1867.  The  other  stories  were  for 
the  most  part  contributed  to  periodicals  before  being  col 
lected  in  book  form,  Little  Captain  Trott  being  a  study  of 
child  life  first  published  in  The  Atlantic  Monthly.  It  is 
after  all  a  somewhat  loose  classification  which  sets  these  all 
apart  as  stories  and  sketches  for  the  young.  Some  of  them 
might  readily  have  been  grouped  with  the  stories,  sketches, 
and  studies  comprised  in  the  fourteenth  volume  of  this 
series,  just  as  some  pieces  there  printed  might  have  found 
as  suitable  a  place  in  this  volume.  In  truth,  Mrs.  Stowe 
was  naturally  a  companion  for  young  and  old,  without  too 
nice  a  calculation  of  adaptation  to  either  class. 


STORIES  AND  SKETCHES  FOR 
THE  YOUNG 


QUEEK   LITTLE   PEOPLE 
THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS 

ONCE  there  was  a  nice  young  hen  that  we  will  call  Mrs. 
Feathertop.  She  was  a  hen  of  most  excellent  family,  being 
a  direct  descendant  of  the  Bolton  Grays,  and  as  pretty  a 
young  fowl  as  you  should  wish  to  see  of  a  summer's  day. 
She  was,  moreover,  as  fortunately  situated  in  life  as  it  was 
possible  for  a  hen  to  be.  She  was  bought  by  young  Mas 
ter  Fred  Little  John,  with  four  or  five  family  connections 
of  hers,  and  a  lively  young  cock,  who  was  held  to  be  as 
brisk  a  scratcher  and  as  capable  a  head  of  a  family  as  any 
half-dozen  sensible  hens  could  desire. 

I  can't  say  that  at  first  Mrs.  Feathertop  was  a  very  sen 
sible  hen.  She  was  very  pretty  and  lively,  to  be  sure,  and 
a  great  favorite  with  Master  Bolton  Gray  Cock,  on  account 
of  her  bright  eyes,  her  finely  shaded  feathers,  and  certain 
saucy  dashing  ways  that  she  had,  which  seemed  greatly  to 
take  his  fancy.  But  old  Mrs.  Scratchard,  living  in  the 
neighboring  yard,  assured  all  the  neighborhood  that  Gray 
Cock  was  a  fool  for  thinking  so  much  of  that  flighty  young 
thing,  —  that  she  had  not  the  smallest  notion  how  to  get 
on  in  life,  and  thought  of  nothing  in  the  world  but  her  own 
pretty  feathers.  "  Wait  till  she  comes  to  have  chickens," 
said  Mrs.  Scratchard.  "  Then  you  will  see.  I  have  brought 


2  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

up  ten  broods  myself,  —  as  likely  and  respectable  chickens 
as  \eviwc  wet  a  blessing  to  society,  —  and  I  think  I  ought 
'  to,  k,uow;  u  gqod  hatcher  and  brooder  when  I  see  her ;  and  I 
,know  tkxt  fine  piece  of  trumpery,  with  her  white  feathers 
.tipped  with  gray?  never  will  come  down  to  family  life. 
She  scratch  for  chickens  !  Bless  me,  she  never  did  any 
thing  in  all  her  days  but  run  round  and  eat  the  worms 
which  somebody  else  scratched  up  for  her." 

When  Master  Bolton  Gray  heard  this  he  crowed  very 
loudly,  like  a  cock  of  spirit,  and  declared  that  old  Mrs. 
Scratchard  was  envious,  because  she  had  lost  all  her  own 
tail-feathers,  and  looked  more  like  a  worn-out  old  feather- 
duster  than  a  respectable  hen,  and  that  therefore  she  was 
filled  with  sheer  envy  of  anybody  that  was  young  and 
pretty.  So  young  Mrs.  Feathertop  cackled  gay  defiance  at 
her  busy  rubbishy  neighbor,  as  she  sunned  herself  under 
the  bushes  on  fine  June  afternoons. 

Now  Master  Fred  Little  John  had  been  allowed  to  have 
these  hens  by  his  mamma  on  the  condition  that  he  would 
build  their  house  himself,  and  take  all  the  care  of  it ;  and, 
to  do  Master  Fred  justice,  he  executed  the  job  in  a  small 
way  quite  creditably.  He  chose  a  sunny  sloping  bank  cov 
ered  with  a  thick  growth  of  bushes,  and  erected  there  a 
nice  little  hen-house,  with  two  glass  windows,  a  little  door, 
and  a  good  pole  for  his  family  to  roost  on.  He  made, 
moreover,  a  row  of  nice  little  boxes  with  hay  in  them  for 
nests,  and  he  bought  three  or  four  little  smooth  white  china 
eggs  to  put  in  them,  so  that,  when  his  hens  did  lay,  he 
might  carry  off  their  eggs  without  their  being  missed.  This 
hen-house  stood  in  a  little  grove  that  sloped  down  to  a 
wide  river,  just  where  there  was  a  little  cove  which  reached 
almost  to  the  hen-house. 

This  situation  inspired  one  of  Master  Fred's  boy  advis 
ers  with  a  new  scheme  in  relation  to  his  poultry  enter 
prise.  "  Hullo !  I  say,  Fred/'  said  Tom  Seymour,  "  you 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS         3 

ought  to  raise  ducks,  —  you  ?ve  got  a  capital  place  for  ducks 
there." 

"  Yes,  —  but  I  ?ve  bought  hens,  you  see/'  said  Freddy, 
"so  it's  no  use  trying." 

"  No  use  !  Of  course  there  is  !  Just  as  if  your  hens 
could  n't  hatch  ducks'  eggs.  Now  you  just  wait  till  one  of 
your  hens  wants  to  set,  and  you  put  ducks'  eggs  under  her, 
and  you  '11  have  a  family  of  ducks  in  a  twinkling.  You 
can  buy  ducks'  eggs,  a  plenty,  of  old  Sam  under  the  hill ; 
he  always  has  hens  hatch  his  ducks." 

So  Freddy  thought  it  would  be  a  good  experiment,  and 
informed  his  mother  the  next  morning  that  he  intended  to 
furnish  the  ducks  for  the  next  Christmas  dinner ;  and  when 
she  wondered  how  he  was  to  come  by  them,  he  said,  mys 
teriously,  "Oh,  I  will  show  you  how! "  but  did  not  further 
explain  himself.  The  next  day  he  went  with  Tom  Sey 
mour,  and  made  a  trade  with  old  Sam,  and  gave  him  a  mid 
dle-aged  jack-knife  for  eight  of  his  ducks'  eggs.  Sam,  by  the 
bye,  was  a  woolly-headed  old  negro  man,  who  lived  by  the 
pond  hard  by,  and  who  had  long  cast  envying  eyes  on  Fred's 
jack-knife,  because  it  was  of  extra-fine  steel,  having  been  a 
Christmas  present  the  year  before.  But  Fred  knew  very  well 
there  were  any  number  more  of  jack-knives  where  that  came 
from,  and  that,  in  order  to  get  a  new  one,  he  must  dispose 
of  the  old ;  so  he  made  the  trade  and  came  home  rejoicing. 

Now  about  this  time  Mrs.  Feathertop,  having  laid  her 
eggs  daily  with  great  credit  to  herself,  notwithstanding  Mrs. 
Scratchard's  predictions,  began  to  find  herself  suddenly  at 
tacked  with  nervous  symptoms.  She  lost  her  gay  spirits, 
grew  dumpish  and  morose,  stuck  up  her  feathers  in  a  bris 
tling  way,  and  pecked  at  her  neighbors  if  they  did  so  much 
as  look  at  her.  Master  Gray  Cock  was  greatly  concerned, 
and  went  to  old  Doctor  Peppercorn,  who  looked  solemn,  and 
recommended  an  infusion  of  angle-worms,  and  said  he  would 
look  in  on  the  patient  twice  a  day  till  she  was  better. 


4  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

"  Gracious  me,  Gray  Cock !  "  said  old  Goody  Kertarkut, 
who  had  been  lolling  at  the  corner  as  he  passed,  "a'n't  you  a 
fool  ?  —  cocks  always  are  fools.  Don't  you  know  what  's  the 
matter  with  your  wife  ?  She  wants  to  set,  —  that 's  all ;  and 
you  just  let  her  set !  A  fiddlestick  for  Doctor  Peppercorn  ! 
Why,  any  good  old  hen  that  has  brought  up  a  family  knows 
more  than  a  doctor  about  such  things.  You  just  go  home 
and  tell  her  to  set,  if  she  wants  to,  and  behave  herself. " 

When  Gray  Cock  came  home,  he  found  that  Master 
Freddy  had  been  before  him,  and  established  Mrs.  Feather- 
top  upon  eight  nice  eggs,  where  she  was  sitting  in  gloomy 
grandeur.  He  tried  to  make  a  little  affable  conversation 
with  her,  and  to  relate  his  interview  with  the  doctor  and 
Goody  Kertarkut,  but  she  was  morose  and  sullen,  and  only 
pecked  at  him  now  and  then  in  a  very  sharp,  unpleasant 
way ;  so  after  a  few  more  efforts  to  make  himself  agreeable, 
he  left  her,  and  went  out  promenading  with  the  captivating 
Mrs.  Red  Comb,  a  charming  young  Spanish  widow,  who 
had  just  been  imported  into  the  neighboring  yard. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  said  he,  "  you  've  no  idea  how  cross 
my  wife  is." 

"Oh,  you  horrid  creature!"  said  Mrs.  Red  Comb  ;  "how 
little  you  feel  for  the  weaknesses  of  us  poor  hens  !  " 

"  On  my  word,  ma'am,"  said  Gray  Cock,  "  you  do  me 
injustice.  But  when  a  hen  gives  way  to  temper,  ma'am, 
and  no  longer  meets  her  husband  with  a  smile,  —  when  she 
even  pecks  at  him  whom  she  is  bound  to  honor  and 
obey  —  » 

"  Horrid  monster  !  talking  of  obedience  !  I  should  say, 
sir,  you  came  straight  from  Turkey  !  "  and  Mrs.  Eed  Comb 
tossed  her  head  with  a  most  bewitching  air,  and  pretended 
to  run  away,  and  old  Mrs.  Scratchard  looked  out  of  her 
coop  and  called  to  Goody  Kertarkut,  — 

"  Look  how  Mr.  Gray  Cock  is  flirting  with  that  widow. 
I  always  knew  she  was  a  baggage." 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS          5 

"And  his  poor  wife  left  at  home  alone/'  said  Goody 
Kertarkut.  "  It  's  the  way  with  'em  all !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Dame  Scratchard,  "  she  '11  know  what 
real  life  is  now,  and  she  won't  go  about  holding  her  head 
so  high,  and  looking  down  on  her  practical  neighbors  that 
have  raised  families." 

"  Poor  thing,  what  '11  she  do  with  a  family  ?  "  said  Goody 
Kertarkut. 

"  Well,  what  business  have  such  young  flirts  to  get  mar 
ried  ?  "  said  Dame  Scratchard.  "  I  don't  expect  she  '11  raise 
a  single  chick ;  and  there  's  Gray  Cock  flirting  about,  fine 
as  ever.  Folks  did  n't  do  so  when  I  was  young.  I  'm  sure 
my  husband  knew  what  treatment  a  setting  hen  ought  to 
have,  —  poor  old  Long  Spur,  —  he  never  minded  a  peck  or 
so  now  and  then.  I  must  say  these  modern  fowls  a'n't 
what  fowls  used  to  be." 

Meanwhile  the  sun  rose  and  set,  and  Master  Fred  was 
almost  the  only  friend  and  associate  of  poor  little  Mrs. 
Feathertop,  whom  he  fed  daily  with  meal  and  water,  and 
only  interrupted  her  sad  reflections  by  pulling  her  up  occa 
sionally  to  see  how  the  eggs  were  coming  on. 

At  last,  "Peep,  peep,  peep  !  "  began  to  be  heard  in  the 
nest,  and  one  little  downy  head  after  another  poked  forth 
from  under  the  feathers,  surveying  the  world  with  round, 
bright,  winking  eyes ;  and  gradually  the  brood  were  hatched, 
and  Mrs.  Feathertop  arose,  a  proud  and  happy  mother,  with 
all  the  bustling,  scratching,  care-taking  instincts  of  family- 
life  warm  within  her  breast.  She  clucked  and  scratched,  and 
cuddled  the  little  downy  bits  of  things  as  handily  and  dis 
creetly  as  a  seven-year-old  hen  could  have  done,  exciting 
thereby  the  wonder  of  the  community. 

Master  Gray  Cock  came  home  in  high  spirits,  and  com 
plimented  her ;  told  her  she  was  looking  charmingly  once 
more,  and  said,  "  Very  well,  very  nice  !  "  as  he  surveyed  the 
young  brood.  So  that  Mrs.  Feathertop  began  to  feel  the 


6  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

world  going  well  with  her,  —  when  suddenly  in  came  Dame 
Scratchard  and  Goody  Kertarkut  to  make  a  morning  call. 

"  Let 's  see  the  chicks,'7  said  Dame  Scratchard. 

"  Goodness  me/7  said  Goody  Kertarkut,  "  what  a  likeness 
to  their  dear  papa !  " 

"  Well,  but  bless  me,  what  's  the  matter  with  their  bills  ?  " 
said  Dame  Scratchard.  "  Why,  my  dear,  these  chicks  are 
deformed !  I  'm  sorry  for  you,  my  dear,  but  it  's  all  the 
result  of  your  inexperience  ;  you  ought  to  have  eaten  pebble 
stones  with  your  meal  when  you  were  setting.  Don't  you 
see,  Dame  Kertarkut,  what  bills  they  have  ?  That  '11 
increase,  and  they  '11  be  frightful !  " 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Feathertop,  now  greatly 
alarmed. 

"  Nothing,  as  I  know  of,"  said  Dame  Scratchard,  "  since 
you  did  n't  come  to  me  before  you  set.  I  could  have  told 
you  all  about  it.  Maybe  it  won't  kill  'em,  but  they  '11 
always  be  deformed." 

And  so  the  gossips  departed,  leaving  a  sting  under  the 
pin-feathers  of  the  poor  little  hen  mamma,  who  began  to 
see  that  her  darlings  had  curious  little  spoon-bills,  different 
from  her  own,  and  to  worry  and  fret  about  it. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said  to  her  spouse,  "  do  get  Dr.  Pepper 
corn  to  come  in  and  look  at  their  bills,  and  see  if  anything 
can  be  done." 

Dr.  Peppercorn  came  in,  and  put  on  a  monstrous  pair 
of  spectacles,  and  said,  "  Hum !  Ha  !  Extraordinary  case,  — 
very  singular  ! " 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  it,  Doctor  ?  "  said  both 
parents,  in  a  breath. 

"  I  've  read  of  such  cases.  It 's  a  calcareous  enlarge 
ment  of  the  vascular  bony  tissue,  threatening  ossification," 
said  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  dreadful !  —  can  it  be  possible  ?  "  shrieked  both 
parents.  "  Can  anything  be  done  ?  " 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS         7 

"  Well,  I  should  recommend  a  daily  lotion  made  of  mos 
quitoes'  horns  and  bicarbonate  of  frogs'  toes,  together  with 
a  powder,  to  be  taken  morning  and  night,  of  muriate  of 
fleas.  One  thing  you  must  be  careful  about :  they  must 
never  wet  their  feet,  nor  drink  any  water." 

"  Dear  me,  Doctor,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do,  for  they 
seem  to  have  a  particular  fancy  for  getting  into  water." 

"  Yes,  a  morbid  tendency  often  found  in  these  cases  of 
bony  tumification  of  the  vascular  tissue  of  the  mouth  ;  but 
you  must  resist  it,  ma'am,  as  their  life  depends  upon  it ; " 
—  and  with  that  Dr.  Peppercorn  glared  gloomily  on  the 
young  ducks,  who  were  stealthily  poking  the  objectionable 
little  spoon-bills  out  from  under  their  mother's  feathers. 

After  this  poor  Mrs.  Feathertop  led  a  weary  life  of  it ; 
for  the  young  fry  were  as  healthy  and  enterprising  a  brood 
of  young  ducks  as  ever  carried  saucepans  on  the  end  of 
their  noses,  and  they  most  utterly  set  themselves  against 
the  doctor's  prescriptions,  murmured  at  the  muriate  of  fleas 
and  the  bicarbonate  of  frogs'  toes,  and  took  every  opportu 
nity  to  waddle  their  little  ways  down  to  the  mud  and 
water  which  was  in  their  near  vicinity.  So  their  bills  grew 
larger  and  larger,  as  did  the  rest  of  their  bodies,  and  fam 
ily  government  grew  weaker  and  weaker. 

"  You  '11  wear  me  out,  children,  you  certainly  will,"  said 
poor  Mrs.  Feathertop. 

"  You  '11  go  to  destruction,  —  do  ye  hear  ?  "  said  Master 
Gray  Cock. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  frights  as  poor  Mrs.  Feathertop 
has  got  ?  "  said  Dame  Scratchard.  "  I  knew  what  would 
come  of  her  family,  —  all  deformed,  and  with  a  dreadful 
sort  of  madness,  which  makes  them  love  to  shovel  mud 
with  those  shocking  spoon-bills  of  theirs." 

"  It 's  a  kind  of  idiocy,"  said  Goody  Kertarkut.  "  Poor 
things !  they  can't  be  kept  from  the  water,  nor  made  to 
take  powders,  and  so  they  get  worse  and  worse." 


8  QUEEE  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

"  I  understand  it  's  affecting  their  feet  so  that  they  can't 
walk,  and  a  dreadful  sort  of  net  is  growing  between  their 
toes  ;  what  a  shocking  visitation  !  " 

"  She  brought  it  on  herself,"  said  Dame  Scratchard. 
"  Why  did  n't  she  come  to  me  before  she  set  ?  She  was 
always  an  upstart,  self-conceited  thing,  but  1 7m  sure  I  pity 
her." 

Meanwhile  the  young  ducks  throve  apace.  Their  necks 
grew  glossy,  like  changeable  green  and  gold  satin,  and 
though  they  would  not  take  the  doctor's  medicine,  and 
would  waddle  in  the  mud  and  water,  —  for  which  they  al 
ways  felt  themselves  to  be  very  naughty  ducks,  —  yet  they 
grew  quite  vigorous  and  hearty.  At  last  one  day  the 
whole  little  tribe  waddled  off  down  to  the  bank  of  the 
river.  It  was  a  beautiful  day,  and  the  river  was  dancing 
and  dimpling  and  winking  as  the  little  breezes  shook  the 
trees  that  hung  over  it. 

"  Well,"  said  the  biggest  of  the  little  ducks,  "  in  spite 
of  Dr.  Peppercorn,  I  can't  help  longing  for  the  water.  I 
don't  believe  it  is  going  to  hurt  me,  —  at  any  rate,  here 
goes  ;  "  —  and  in  he  plumped,  and  in  went  every  duck  after 
him,  and  they  threw  out  their  great  brown  feet  as  cleverly 
as  if  they  had  taken  rowing  lessons  all  their  lives,  and 
sailed  off  on  the  river,  away,  away  among  the  ferns,  under 
the  pink  azalias,  through  reeds  and  rushes,  and  arrow 
heads  and  pickerel-weed,  the  happiest  ducks  that  ever  were 
born ;  and  soon  they  were  quite  out  of  sight. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Feathertop,  this  is  a  dispensation  ! "  said 
Mrs.  Scratchard.  "  Your  children  are  all  drowned  at  last, 
just  as  I  knew  they  ?d  be.  The  old  music-teacher,  Master 
Bullfrog,  that  lives  down  in  Water-dock  Lane,  saw  ?em  all 
plump  madly  into  the  water  together  this  morning ;  that  ?s 
what  comes  of  not  knowing  how  to  bring  up  a  family." 

Mrs.  Feathertop  gave  only  one  shriek  and  fainted  dead 
away,  and  was  carried  home  on  a  cabbage-leaf,  and  Mr. 


THE  HEN  THAT  HATCHED  DUCKS          9 

Gray  Cock  was  sent  for,  where  he  was  waiting  on  Mrs. 
Red  Comb  through  the  squash-vines. 

"  It 's  a  serious  time  in  your  family,  sir,"  said  Goody 
Kertarkut,  "  and  you  ought  to  be  at  home  supporting  your 
wife.  Send  for  Doctor  Peppercorn  without  delay." 

Now  as  the  case  was  a  very  dreadful  one,  Doctor  Pepper 
corn  called  a  council  from  the  barn-yard  of  the  Squire,  two 
miles  off,  and  a  brisk  young  Doctor  Partlett  appeared,  in  a 
fine  suit  of  brown  and  gold,  with  tail-feathers  like  meteors. 
A  fine  young  fellow  he  was,  lately  from  Paris,  with  all  the 
modern  scientific  improvements  fresh  in  his  head. 

When  he  had  listened  to  the  whole  story,  he  clapped  his 
spur  into  the  ground,  and  leaning  back,  laughed  so  loud 
that  all  the  cocks  in  the  neighborhood  crowed. 

Mrs.  Feathertop  rose  up  out  of  her  swoon,  and  Mr.  Gray 
Cock  was  greatly  enraged. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  such  behavior  in  the  house 
of  mourning  ?  " 

"  My  dear  sir,  pardon  me,  —  but  there  is  no  occasion  for 
mourning.  My  dear  madam,  let  me  congratulate  you. 
There  is  no  harm  done.  The  simple  matter  is,  dear 
madam,  you  have  been  under  a  hallucination  all  along. 
The  neighborhood  and  my  learned  friend  the  doctor  have 
all  made  a  mistake  in  thinking  that  these  children  of  yours 
were  hens  at  all.  They  are  ducks,  ma'am,  evidently 
ducks,  and  very  finely  formed  ducks  I  dare  say." 

At  this  moment  a  quack  was  heard,  and  at  a  distance  the 
whole  tribe  were  seen  coming  waddling  home,  their  feathers 
gleaming  in  green  and  gold,  and  they  themselves  in  high 
good  spirits. 

"  Such  a  splendid  day  as  we  have  had  !  "  they  all  cried 
in  a  breath.  "  And  we  know  now  how  to  get  our  own  liv 
ing  ;  we  can  take  care  of  ourselves  in  future,  so  you  need 
have  no  further  trouble  with  us." 

"  Madam,"  said  the  doctor,  making  a  bow  with  an  air 


10  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

which  displayed  his  tail-feathers  to  advantage,  "  let  me  con 
gratulate  you  on  the  charming  family  you  have  raised.  A 
finer  brood  of  young,  healthy  ducks  I  never  saw.  Give 
claw,  my  dear  friend/'  he  said,  addressing  the  elder  son. 
"  In  our  harn-yard  no  family  is  more  respected  than  that  of 
the  ducks.77 

And  so  Madam  Feathertop  came  off  glorious  at  last ;  and 
when  after  this  the  ducks  used  to  go  swimming  up  and  down 
the  river  like  so  many  nabobs  among  the  admiring  hens, 
Doctor  Peppercorn  used  to  look  after  them  and  say,  "  Ah  ! 
I  had  the  care  of  their  infancy  ! 77  and  Mr.  Gray  Cock  and 
his  wife  used  to  say,  "  It  was  our  system  of  education  did 
that !  » 


THE  NUTCEACKEES  OF  NUTCEACKEE  LODGE 

MB.  and  Mrs.  Nutcracker  were  as  respectable  a  pair  of 
squirrels  as  ever  wore  gray  brushes  over  their  backs.  They 
were  animals  of  a  settled  and  serious  turn  of  mind,  not  dis 
posed  to  run  after  vanities  and  novelties,  but  filling  their 
station  in  life  with  prudence  and  sobriety.  Nutcracker 
Lodge  was  a  hole  in  a  sturdy  old  chestnut  overhanging  a 
shady  dell,  and  was  held  to  be  as  respectably  kept  an  estab 
lishment  as  there  was  in  the  whole  forest.  Even  Miss 
Jenny  Wren,  the  greatest  gossip  of  the  neighborhood, 
never  found  anything  to  criticise  in  its  arrangements,  and 
old  Parson  Too-whit,  a  venerable  owl  who  inhabited  a 
branch  somewhat  more  exalted,  as  became  his  profession, 
was  in  the  habit  of  saving  himself  much  trouble  in  his 
parochial  exhortations  by  telling  his  parishioners  in  short 
to  "  look  at  the  Nutcrackers  "  if  they  wanted  to  see  what 
it  was  to  live  a  virtuous  life.  Everything  had  gone  on 
prosperously  with  them,  and  they  had  reared  many  suc 
cessive  families  of  young  Nutcrackers,  who  went  forth  to 
assume  their  places  in  the  forest  of  life,  and  to  reflect  credit 
on  their  bringing-up,  —  so  that  naturally  enough  they  began 
to  have  a  very  easy  way  of  considering  themselves  models 
of  wisdom. 

But  at  last  it  came  along,  in  the  course  of  events,  that 
they  had  a  son  named  Featherhead,  who  was  destined  to 
bring  them  a  great  deal  of  anxiety.  Nobody  knows  what 
the  reason  is,  but  the  fact  was  that  Master  Featherhead 
was  as  different  from  all  the  former  children  of  this  worthy 
couple  as  if  he  had  been  dropped  out  of  the  moon  into 


12  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

their  nest,  Instead  of  coming  into  it  in  the  general  way. 
Young  Featherhead  was  a  squirrel  of  good  parts  and  a  lively 
disposition,  but  he  was  sulky  and  contrary  and  unreason 
able,  and  always  finding  matter  of  complaint  in  everything 
his  respectable  papa  and  mamma  did.  Instead  of  assist 
ing  in  the  cares  of  a  family,  —  picking  up  nuts  and  learning 
other  lessons  proper  to  a  young  squirrel,  —  he  seemed  to 
settle  himself  from  his  earliest  years  into  a  sort  of  lofty 
contempt  for  the  Nutcrackers,  for  Nutcracker  Lodge,  and 
for  all  the  good  old  ways  and  institutions  of  the  domestic 
hole,  which  he  declared  to  be  stupid  and  unreasonable,  and 
entirely  behind  the  times.  To  be  sure,  he  was  always  on 
hand  at  meal-times,  and  played  a  very  lively  tooth  on  the 
nuts  which  his  mother  had  collected,  always  selecting  the 
very  best  for  himself ;  but  he  seasoned  his  nibbling  with  so 
much  grumbling  and  discontent,  and  so  many  severe  re 
marks,  as  to  give  the  impression  that  he  considered  himself 
a  peculiarly  ill-used  squirrel  in  having  to  "eat  their  old 
grub,"  as  he  very  unceremoniously  called  it. 

Papa  Nutcracker,  on  these  occasions,  was  often  fiercely 
indignant,  and  poor  little  Mamma  Nutcracker  would  shed 
tears,  and  beg  her  darling  to  be  a  little  more  reasonable  ; 
but  the  young  gentleman  seemed  always  to  consider  himself 
as  the  injured  party. 

Now  nobody  could  tell  why  or  wherefore  Master  Feath 
erhead  looked  upon  himself  as  injured  and  aggrieved,  since 
he  was  living  in  a  good  hole,  with  plenty  to  eat,  and  with 
out  the  least  care  or  labor  of  his  own  ;  but  he  seemed  rather 
to  value  himself  upon  being  gloomy  and  dissatisfied.  While 
his  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters  were  cheerfully  racing 
up  and  down  the  branches,  busy  in  their  domestic  toils,  and 
laying  up  stores  for  the  winter,  Featherhead  sat  gloomily 
apart,  declaring  himself  weary  of  existence,  and  feeling  him 
self  at  liberty  to  quarrel  with  everybody  and  everything 
about  him.  Nobody  understood  him,  he  said ;  —  he  was  a 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE    13 

squirrel  of  a  peculiar  nature,  and  needed  peculiar  treatment, 
and  nobody  treated  him  in  a  way  that  did  not  grate  on  the 
finer  nerves  of  his  feelings.  He  had  higher  notions  of 
existence  than  could  be  bounded  by  that  old  rotten  hole  in 
a  hollow  tree ;  he  had  thoughts  that  soared  far  above  the 
miserable,  petty  details  of  every-day  life,  and  he  could  not 
and  would  not  bring  down  these  soaring  aspirations  to  the 
contemptible  toil  of  laying  up  a  few  chestnuts  or  hickory- 
nuts  for  winter. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nutcracker  sol 
emnly,  "that  fellow  must  be  a  genius." 

"  Fiddlestick  on  his  genius!  "  said  old  Mr.  Nutcracker; 
"  what  does  he  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,  of  course  ;  that  's  one  of  the  first  marks  of 
genius.  Geniuses,  you  know,  never  can  come  down  to 
common  life." 

"  He  eats  enough  for  any  two,"  remarked  old  Nutcracker, 
"  and  he  never  helps  gather  nuts." 

"My  dear,  ask  Parson  Too-whit ;  he  has  conversed  with 
him,  and  quite  agrees  with  me  that  he  says  very  uncom 
mon  things  for  a  squirrel  of  his  age ;  he  has  such  fine  feel 
ings,  —  so  much  above  those  of  the  common  crowd." 

"  Fine  feelings  be  hanged ! "  said  old  Nutcracker. 
"  When  a  fellow  eats  all  the  nuts  that  his  mother  gives 
him,  and  then  grumbles  at  her,  I  don't  believe  much  in  his 
fine  feelings.  Why  don't  he  set  himself  about  something  ? 
I'm  going  to  tell  my  fine  young  gentleman  that,  if  he 
does  n't  behave  himself,  I  '11  tumble  him  out  of  the  nest, 
neck  and  crop,  and  see  if  hunger  won't  do  something 
towards  bringing  down  his  fine  airs." 

But  then  Mrs.  Nutcracker  fell  on  her  husband's  neck 
with  both  paws,  and  wept,  and  besought  him  so  piteously 
to  have  patience  with  her  darling,  that  old  Nutcracker,  who 
was  himself  a  soft-hearted  old  squirrel,  was  prevailed  upon 
to  put  up  with  the  airs  and  graces  of  his  young  scrapegrace 


14  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

a  little  longer ;  and  secretly  in  his  silly  old  heart  he  re 
volved  the  question  whether  possibly  it  might  not  be  that 
a  great  genius  was  actually  to  come  of  his  household. 

The  Nutcrackers  belonged  to  the  old  established  race  of 
the  Grays,  but  they  were  sociable,  friendly  people,  and  kept 
on  the  best  of  terms  with  all  branches  of  the  Nutcracker 
family.  The  Chipmunks  of  Chipmunk  Hollow  were  a  very 
lively,  cheerful,  sociable  race,  and  on  the  very  best  of  terms 
with  the  Nutcracker  Grays.  Young  Tip  Chipmunk,  the 
oldest  son,  was  in  all  respects  a  perfect  contrast  to  Master 
Featherhead.  He  was  always  lively  and  cheerful,  and  so 
very  alert  in  providing  for  the  family,  that  old  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Chipmunk  had  very  little  care,  but  could  sit  sociably 
at  the  door  of  their  hole  and  chat  with  neighbors,  quite 
sure  that  Tip  would  bring  everything  out  right  for  them, 
and  have  plenty  laid  up  for  winter.  Now  Featherhead 
took  it  upon  him,  for  some  reason  or  other,  to  look  down 
upon  Tip  Chipmunk,  and  on  every  occasion  to  disparage 
him  in  the  social  circles  as  a  very  common  kind  of  squirrel, 
with  whom  it  would  be  best  not  to  associate  too  freely. 

"  My  dear,  "  said  Mrs.  Nutcracker  one  day,  when  he  was 
expressing  these  ideas,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  you  are  too 
hard  on  poor  Tip  ;  he  is  a  most  excellent  son  and  brother, 
and  I  wish  you  would  be  civil  to  him." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  doubt  that  Tip  is  good  enough,'7  said 
Featherhead,  carelessly  ;  "  but  then  he  is  so  very  common  ! 
he  has  n't  an  idea  in  his  skull  above  his  nuts  and  his  hole. 
He  is  good-natured  enough,  to  be  sure,  —  these  very  ordi 
nary  people  often  are  good-natured,  —  but  he  wants  man 
ner  ;  he  has  really  no  manner  at  all ;  and  as  to  the  deeper 
feelings,  Tip  has  n't  the  remotest  idea  of  them.  I  mean 
always  to  be  civil  to  Tip  when  he  comes  in  my  way,  but 
I  think  the  less  we  see  of  that  sort  of  people  the  better ; 
and  I  hope,  mother,  you  won't  invite  the  Chipmunks  at 
Christmas,  —  these  family  dinners  are  such  a  bore  ! " 


THE  NUTCRACKERS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE    15 

"  But  my  dear,  your  father  thinks  a  great  deal  of  the 
Chipmunks ;  and  it  is  an  old  family  custom  to  have  all  the 
relatives  here  at  Christmas." 

"  And  an  awful  bore  it  is  !  Why  must  people  of  refine 
ment  and  elevation  be  forever  tied  down  because  of  some 
distant  relationship  ?  Now  there  are  our  cousins  the  High- 
Flyers,  —  if  we  could  get  them,  there  would  be  some  sense 
in  it.  Young  Whisk  rather  promised  me  for  Christmas ; 
but  it 's  seldom  now  you  can  get  a  flying  squirrel  to  show 
himself  in  our  parts,  and  if  we  are  intimate  with  the  Chip 
munks  it  isn't  to  be  expected." 

"  Confound  him  for  a  puppy  ! "  said  old  Nutcracker, 
when  his  wife  repeated  these  sayings  to  him.  "Feather- 
head  is  a  fool.  Common,  forsooth !  I  wish  good  indus 
trious,  painstaking  sons  like  Tip  Chipmunk  were  common. 
For  my  part,  I  find  these  uncommon  people  the  most  tire 
some  ;  they  are  not  content  with  letting  us  carry  the  whole 
load,  but  they  sit  on  it,  and  scold  at  us  while  we  carry 
them." 

But  old  Mr.  Nutcracker,  like  many  other  good  old  gen 
tlemen  squirrels,  found  that  Christmas  dinners  and  other 
things  were  apt  to  go  as  his  wife  said,  and  his  wife  was  apt 
to  go  as  young  Featherhead  said ;  and  so,  when  Christmas 
came,  the  Chipmunks  were  not  invited,  for  the  first  time 
in  many  years.  The  Chipmunks,  however,  took  all  pleas 
antly,  and  accepted  poor  old  Mrs.  Nutcracker's  awkward 
apologies  with  the  best  possible  grace,  and  young  Tip  looked 
in  on  Christmas  morning  with  the  compliments  of  the  season 
and  a  few  beech-nuts,  which  he  had  secured  as  a  great 
dainty.  The  fact  was,  that  Tip's  little  striped  fur  coat  was 
so  filled  up  and  overflowing  with  cheerful  good-will  to  all, 
that  he  never  could  be  made  to  understand  that  any  of  his 
relations  could  want  to  cut  him  ;  and  therefore  Featherhead 
looked  down  on  him  with  contempt,  and  said  he  had  no 
tact,  and  could  n't  see  when  he  was  not  wanted. 


16  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how,  by  means  of  persisting  in 
remarks  like  these,  young  Featherhead  at  last  got  all  his 
family  to  look  up  to  him  as  something  uncommon.  Though 
he  added  nothing  to  the  family,  and  required  more  to  be 
done  for  him  than  all  the  others  put  together,  —  though  he 
showed  not  the  smallest  real  perseverance  or  ability  in  any 
thing  useful,  —  yet  somehow  all  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  his  poor  foolish  old  mother,  got  into  a  way  of  regard 
ing  him  as  something  wonderful,  and  delighting  in  his 
sharp  sayings  as  if  they  had  been  the  wisest  things  in  the 
world. 

But  at  last  old  papa  declared  that  it  was  time  for  Feath- 
erhead  to  settle  himself  to  some  business  in  life,  roundly 
declaring  that  he  could  not  always  have  him  as  a  hanger-on 
in  the  paternal  hole. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  my  boy  ?  "  said  Tip  Chip 
munk  to  him  one  day.  "  We  are  driving  now  a  thriving 
trade  in  hickory-nuts,  and  if  you  would  like  to  join  us  —  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Featherhead  ;  "  but  I  confess  I  have 
no  fancy  for  anything  so  slow  as  the  hickory  trade  ;  I  never 
was  made  to  grub  and  delve  in  that  way." 

The  fact  was,  that  Featherhead  had  lately  been  forming 
alliances  such  as  no  reputable  squirrel  should  even  think 
of.  He  had  more  than  once  been  seen  going  out  evenings 
with  the  Eats  of  Eat  Hollow,  —  a  race  whose  reputation 
for  honesty  was  more  than  doubtful.  The  fact  was,  fur 
ther,  that  old  Longtooth  Eat,  an  old  sharper  and  money 
lender,  had  long  had  his  eye  on  Featherhead  as  just  about 
silly  enough  for  their  purposes,  —  engaging  him  in  what  he 
called  a  speculation,  but  which  was  neither  more  nor  less 
than  downright  stealing. 

Near  by  the  chestnut-tree  where  Nutcracker  Lodge  was 
situated  was  a  large  barn  filled  with  corn  and  grain,  besides 
many  bushels  of  hazel-nuts,  chestnuts,  and  walnuts.  Now 
old  Longtooth  proposed  to  young  Featherhead  that  he 


THE  NUTCEACKEKS  OF  NUTCRACKER  LODGE    17 

should  nibble  a  passage  into  this  loft,  and  there  establish 
himself  in  the  commission  business,  passing  the  nuts  and 
corn  to  him  as  he  wanted  them.  Old  Longtooth  knew 
what  he  was  about  in  the  proposal,  for  he  had  heard  talk 
of  a  brisk  Scotch  terrier  that  was  about  to  be  bought  to 
keep  the  rats  from  the  grain ;  but  you  may  be  sure  he  kept 
his  knowledge  to  himself,  so  that  Featherhead  was  none 
the  wiser  for  it. 

"  The  nonsense  of  fellows  like  Tip  Chipmunk  ! "  said 
Featherhead  to  his  admiring  brothers  and  sisters.  "  The 
perfectly  stupid  nonsense !  There  he  goes,  delving  and  pok 
ing,  picking  up  a  nut  here  and  a  grain  there,  when  I  step 
into  property  at  once." 

"  But  I  hope,  my  son,  you  are  careful  to  be  honest  in 
your  dealings,"  said  old  Nutcracker,  who  was  a  very  moral 
squirrel. 

With  that,  young  Eeatherhead  threw  his  tail  saucily 
over  one  shoulder,  winked  knowingly  at  his  brothers,  and 
said,  "  Certainly,  sir !  If  honesty  consists  in  getting  what 
you  can  while  it  is  going,  I  mean  to  be  honest." 

Very  soon  Featherhead  appeared  to  his  admiring  com 
panions  in  the  height  of  prosperity.  He  had  a  splendid 
hole  in  the  midst  of  a  heap  of  chestnuts,  and  he  literally 
seemed  to  be  rolling  in  wealth  ;  he  never  came  home  with 
out  showering  lavish  gifts  on  his  mother  and  sisters  ;  he 
wore  his  tail  over  his  back  with  a  buckish  air,  and  patron 
ized  Tip  Chipmunk  with  a  gracious  nod  whenever  he 
met  him,  and  thought  that  the  world  was  going  well  with 
him. 

But  one  luckless  day,  as  Featherhead  was  lolling  in  his 
hole,  up  came  two  boys  with  the  friskiest,  wiriest  Scotch 
terrier  you  ever  saw.  His  eyes  blazed  like  torches,  and  poor 
Featherhead's  heart  died  within  him  as  he  heard  the  boys 
say,  "  Now  we  '11  see  if  we  can't  catch  the  rascal  that  eats 
our  grain." 


18  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

Featherhead  tried  to  slink  out  at  the  hole  he  had  gnawed 
to  come  in  by,  but  found  it  stopped. 

"  Oh,  you  are  there,  are  you,  Mister  ?  "  said  the  boy. 
"  Well,  you  don't  get  out ;  and  now  for  a  chase  !  " 

And,  sure  enough,  poor  Featherhead  ran  distracted  with 
terror  up  and  down,  through  the  bundles  of  hay,  between 
barrels,  and  over  casks  ;  but  with  the  barking  terrier  ever 
at  his  heels,  and  the  boys  running,  shouting,  and  cheering 
his  pursuer  on.  He  was  glad  at  last  to  escape  through  a 
crack,  though  he  left  half  of  his  fine  brush  behind  him,  — 
for  Master  Wasp,  the  terrier,  made  a  snap  at  it  just  as  he 
was  going,  and  cleaned  all  the  hair  off  of  it,  so  that  it  was 
bare  as  a  rat's  tail. 

Poor  Featherhead  limped  off,  bruised  and  beaten  and  be 
draggled,  with  the  boys  and  dog  still  after  him ;  and  they 
would  have  caught  him,  after  all,  if  Tip  Chipmunk's  hole 
had  not  stood  hospitably  open  to  receive  him.  Tip  took 
him  in,  like  a  good-natured  fellow  as  he  was,  and  took  the 
best  of  care  of  him  ;  but  the  glory  of  Featherhead's  tail  had 
departed  forever.  He  had  sprained  his  left  paw,  and  got  a 
chronic  rheumatism,  and  the  fright  and  fatigue  which  he 
had  gone  through  had  broken  up  his  constitution,  so  that 
he  never  again  could  be  what  he  had  been  ;  but  Tip  gave 
him  a  situation  as  under-clerk  in  his  establishment,  and  from 
that  time  he  was  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  squirrel  than  he  ever 
had  been  before. 


THE   HISTOEY   OF  TIP-TOP 

UNDER  the  window  of  a  certain  pretty  little  cottage 
there  grew  a  great  old  apple-tree,  which  in  the  spring  had 
thousands  and  thousands  of  lovely  pink  blossoms  on  it,  and 
in  the  autumn  had  about  half  as  many  bright  red  apples  as 
it  had  blossoms  in  the  spring. 

The  nursery  of  this  cottage  was  a  little  bower  of  a  room 
papered  with  mossy-green  paper,  and  curtained  with  white 
muslin  ;  and  here  five  little  children  used  to  come,  in  their 
white  nightgowns,  to  be  dressed  and  have  their  hair  brushed 
and  curled  every  morning. 

First,  there  were  Alice  and  Mary,  bright-eyed,  laughing 
little  girls,  of  seven  and  eight  years,  and  then  came  stout 
little  Jamie,  and  Charlie,  and  finally  little  Puss,  whose 
real  name  was  Ellen,  but  who  was  called  Puss,  and  Pussy, 
and  Birdie,  and  Toddlie,  and  any  other  pet  name  that  came 
to  mind. 

Now  it  used  to  happen,  every  morning,  that  the  five  little 
heads  would  be  peeping  out  of  the  window,  together,  into 
the  flowery  boughs  of  the  apple-tree ;  and  the  reason  was 
this.  A  pair  of  robins  had  built  a  very  pretty,  smooth- 
lined  nest  in  a  fork  of  the  limb  that  came  directly  under 
the  window,  and  the  building  of  this  nest  had  been  super 
intended,  day  by  day,  by  the  five  pairs  of  bright  eyes  of 
these  five  children.  The  robins  at  first  had  been  rather  shy 
of  this  inspection  ;  but,  as  they  got  better  acquainted,  they 
seemed  to  think  no  more  of  the  little  curly  heads  in  the 
window,  than  of  the  pink  blossoms  about  them,  or  the 
daisies  and  buttercups  at  the  foot  of  the  tree. 


20  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

All  the  little  hands  were  forward  to  help  ;  some  threw 
out  flossy  bits  of  cotton,  —  for  which,  we  grieve  to  say, 
Charlie  had  cut  a  hole  in  the  crih  quilt,  —  and  some  threw 
out  bits  of  thread  and  yarn,  and  Allie  raveled  out  a  con 
siderable  piece  from  one  of  her  garters,  which  she  threw  out 
as  a  contribution ;  and  they  exulted  in  seeing  the  skill  with 
which  the  little  builders  wove  everything  in.  "  Little 
birds,  little  birds,"  they  would  say,  "  you  shall  be  kept 
warm,  for  we  have  given  you  cotton  out  of  our  crib  quilt, 
and  yarn  out  of  our  stockings."  Nay,  so  far  did  this  gen 
erosity  proceed,  that  Charlie  cut  a  flossy,  golden  curl  from 
Toddlie's  head  and  threw  it  out ;  and  when  the  birds  caught 
it  up  the  whole  flock  laughed  to  see  Toddlie's  golden  hair 
figuring  in  a  bird's-nest. 

When  the  little  thing  was  finished,  it  was  so  neat,  and 
trim,  and  workman-like,  that  the  children  all  exulted  over 
it,  and  called  it  "  our  nest,"  and  the  two  robins  they  called 
"  our  birds."  But  wonderful  was  the  joy  when  the  little 
eyes,  opening  one  morning,  saw  in  the  nest  a  beautiful  pale- 
green  egg ;  and  the  joy  grew  from  day  to  day,  for  every 
day  there  came  another  egg,  and  so  on  till  there  were  five 
little  eggs ;  and  then  the  oldest  girl,  Alice,  said,  "  There 
are  five  eggs ;  that  makes  one  for  each  of  us,  and  each  of 
us  will  have  a  little  bird  by  and  by ;  "  —  at  which  all  the 
children  laughed  and  jumped  for  glee. 

When  the  five  little  eggs  were  all  laid,  the  mother-bird 
began  to  sit  on  them ;  and  at  any  time  of  day  or  night, 
when  a  little  head  peeped  out  of  the  nursery  window,  might 
be  seen  a  round,  bright,  patient  pair  of  bird's  eyes  content 
edly  waiting  for  the  young  birds  to  come.  It  seemed  a 
long  time  for  the  children  to  wait ;  but  every  day  they  put 
some  bread  and  cake  from  their  luncheon  on  the  window- 
sill,  so  that  the  birds  might  have  something  to  eat ;  but 
still  there  she  was,  patiently  watching ! 

"  How  long,  long,  long  she  waits  !  "  said  Jamie,  im 
patiently.  "  I  don't  believe  she  ?s  ever  going  to  hatch." 


THE   HISTOKY   OF   TIP-TOP  21 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  is  ! "  said  grave  little  Alice.  "  Jamie,  you 
don't  understand  -about  these  things ;  it  takes  a  long,  long 
time  to  hatch  eggs.  Old  Sam  says  his  hens  set  three 
weeks  ;  —  only  think,  almost  a  month  !  " 

Three  weeks  looked  a  long  time  to  the  five  bright  pairs 
of  little  watching  eyes  ;  but  Jamie  said  the  eggs  were  so 
much  smaller  than  hens'  eggs,  that  it  would  n't  take  so  long 
to  hatch  them,  he  knew.  Jamie  always  thought  he  knew 
all  about  everything,  and  was  so  sure  of  it  that  he  rather 
took  the  lead  among  the  children.  But  one  morning,  when 
they  pushed  their  five  heads  out  of  the  window,  the  round, 
patient  little  bird-eyes  were  gone,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
nothing  in  the  nest  but  a  bunch  of  something  hairy. 

Upon  this  they  all  cried  out,  "  0  mamma,  do  come  here ! 
the  bird  is  gone  and  left  her  nest !  "  And  when  they  cried 
out,  they  saw  five  wide  little  red  mouths  open  in  the  nest, 
and  saw  that  the  hairy  bunch  of  stuff  was  indeed  the  first 
of  five  little  birds. 

"  They  are  dreadful-looking  things/7  said  Mary ;  "  I  did 
n't  know  that  little  birds  began  by  looking  so  badly." 

"  They  seem  to  be  all  mouth,"  said  Jamie. 

"  We  must  feed  them,"  said  Charlie. 

"Here,  little  birds,  here's  some  gingerbread  for  you," 
he  said ;  and  he  threw  a  bit  of  his  gingerbread,  which  for 
tunately  only  hit  the  nest  on  the  outside,  and  fell  down 
among  the  buttercups,  where  two  crickets  made  a  meal  of 
it,  and  agreed  that  it  was  as  excellent  gingerbread  as  if  old 
Mother  Cricket  herself  had  made  it. 

"  Take  care,  Charlie,"  said  his  mamma ;  "  we  do  not 
know  enough  to  feed  young  birds.  We  must  leave  it  to 
their  papa  and  mamma,  who  probably  started  out  bright 
and  early  in  the  morning  to  get  breakfast  for  them." 

Sure  enough,  while  they  were  speaking,  back  came  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Robin,  whirring  through  the  green  shadows  of 
the  apple-tree ;  and  thereupon  all  the  five  little  red  mouths 
flew  open,  and  the  birds  put  something  into  each. 


22  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

It  was  great  amusement,  after  this,  to  watch  the  daily 
feeding  of  the  little  birds,  and  to  observe  how,  when  not 
feeding  them,  the  mother  sat  brooding  on  the  nest,  warm 
ing  them  under  her  soft  wings,  while  the  father-bird  sat  on 
the  tip-top  bough  of  the  apple-tree  and  sang  to  them.  In 
time  they  grew  and  grew,  and,  instead  of  a  nest  full  of 
little  red  mouths,  there  was  a  nest  full  of  little,  fat,  speckled 
robins,  with  round,  bright,  cunning  eyes,  just  like  their 
parents  ;  and  the  children  began  to  talk  together  about 
their  birds. 

"  I  'm  going  to  give  my  robin  a  name,"  said  Mary.  "  I 
call  him  Brown-Eyes." 

"  And  I  call  mine  Tip-Top,'7  said  Jamie,  "  because  I 
know  he  '11  be  a  tip-top  bird." 

"  And  I  call  mine  Singer,"  said  Alice. 

"  I  'all  mine  Toddy,"  said  little  Toddlie,  who  would  not 
be  behindhand  in  anything  that  was  going  on. 

"  Hurrah  for  Toddlie  !  "  said  Charlie,  "  hers  is  the  best 
of  all.  For  my  part,  I  call  mine  Speckle." 

So  then  the  birds  were  all  made  separate  characters  by 
having  each  a  separate  name  given  it.  Brown-Eyes,  Tip- 
Top,  Singer,  Toddy,  and  Speckle  made,  as  they  grew  big 
ger,  a  very  crowded  nestful  of  birds. 

Now  the  children  had  early  been  taught  to  say  in  a  lit 
tle  hymn :  — 

"  Birds  in  their  little  nests  agree, 
And  't  is  a  shameful  sight 
When  children  of  one  family 

Fall  out,  and  chide,  and  fight ;  "  — 

and  they  thought  anything  really  written  and  printed  in  a 
hymn  must  be  true ;  therefore  they  were  very  much  aston 
ished  to  see,  from  day  to  day,  that  their  little  birds  in  their 
nests  did  not  agree. 

Tip-Top  was  the  biggest  and  strongest  bird,  and  he  was 
always  shuffling  and  crowding  the  others,  and  clamoring 
for  the  most  food  j  and  when  Mrs.  Robin  came  in  with  a 


THE  HISTORY  OF  TIP-TOP  23 

nice  bit  of  anything,  Tip-Top's  red  mouth  opened  so  wide, 
and  he  was  so  noisy,  that  one  would  think  the  nest  was  all 
his.  His  mother  used  to  correct  him  for  these  gluttonous 
ways,  and  sometimes  made  him  wait  till  all  the  rest  were 
helped  "before  she  gave  him  a  mouthful ;  but  he  generally 
revenged  himself  in  her  absence  by  crowding  the  others 
and  making  the  nest  generally  uncomfortable.  Speckle, 
however,  was  a  bird  of  spirit,  and  he  used  to  peck  at  Tip- 
Top  ;  so  they  would  sometimes  have  a  regular  sparring- 
match  across  poor  Brown-Eyes,  who  was  a  meek,  tender  lit 
tle  fellow,  and  would  sit  winking  and  blinking  in  fear 
while  his  big  brothers  quarreled.  As  to  Toddy  and  Singer, 
they  turned  out  to  be  sister  birds,  and  showed  quite  a  fem 
inine  talent  for  chattering  ;  they  used  to  scold  their  badly 
behaving  brothers  in  a  way  that  made  the  nest  quite  lively. 

On  the  whole,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin  did  not  find  their 
family  circle  the  peaceable  place  the  poets  represent. 

"  I  say,"  said  Tip-Top  one  day  to  them,  ll  this  old  nest 
is  a  dull,  mean,  crowded  hole,  and  it  's  quite  time  some  of 
us  were  out  of  it ;  just  give  us  lessons  in  flying,  won't  you, 
and  let  us  go." 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Mother  Kobin,  "  we  shall  teach  you 
to  fly  as  soon  as  your  wings  are  strong  enough." 

"  You  are  a  very  little  bird,"  said  his  father,  "  and  ought 
to  be  good  and  obedient,  and  wait  patiently  till  your  wing- 
feathers  grow  ;  and  then  you  can  soar  away  to  some  pur 
pose." 

"  Wait  for  my  wing-feathers  ?  Humbug  !  "  Tip-Top 
would  say,  as  he  sat  balancing  with  his  little  short  tail  on 
the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  looking  down  through  the  grass 
and  clover-heads  below,  and  up  into  the  blue  clouds  above. 
"  Father  and  mother  are  slow  old  birds  ;  keep  a  fellow 
back  with  their  confounded  notions.  If  they  don't  hurry 
up,  I  '11  take  matters  into  my  own  claws,  and  be  off  some 
day  before  they  know  it.  Look  at  those  swallows,  skim- 


24  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

ming  and  diving  through  the  blue  air  !  That 's  the  way 
I  want  to  do." 

"  But,  dear  brother,  the  way  to  learn  to  do  that  is  to  be 
good  and  obedient  while  we  are  little,  and  wait  till  our 
parents  think  it  best  for  us  to  begin." 

"  Shut  up  your  preaching,"  said  Tip-Top  j  "  what  do  you 
girls  know  of  flying  ?  " 

"  About  as  much  as  you"  said  Speckle.  "  However, 
1 'm  sure  I  don't  care  how  soon  you  take  yourself  off,  for 
you  take  up  more  room  than  all  the  rest  put  together." 

"You  mind  yourself,  Master  Speckle,  or  you  '11  get  some 
thing  you  don't  like,"  said  Tip-Top,  still  strutting  in  a  very 
cavalier  way  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  sticking  up  his 
little  short  tail  quite  valiantly. 

"  0  my  darlings,"  said  the  mamma,  now  fluttering  home, 
"  cannot  I  ever  teach  you  to  live  in  love  ?  " 

"  It 's  all  Tip-Top's  fault,"  screamed  the  other  birds  in 
a  flutter. 

"  My  fault  ?  Of  course,  everything  in  this  nest  that  goes 
wrong  is  laid  to  me,"  said  Tip-Top  ;  "  and  I  '11  leave  it  to 
anybody,  now,  if  I  crowd  anybody.  I  've  been  sitting  out 
side,  on  the  very  edge  of  the  nest,  and  there 's  Speckle  has 
got  my  place." 

"  Who  wants  your  place  ?  "  said  Speckle.  "  I  am  sure 
you  can  come  in,  if  you  please." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  the  mother,  "  do  go  into  the  nest 
and  be  a  good  little  bird,  and  then  you  will  be  happy." 

"  That's  always  the  talk,"  said  Tip-Top.  "  I  'm  too  big 
for  the  nest,  and  I  want  to  see  the  world.  It 's  full  of 
beautiful  things,  I  know.  Now  there 's  the  most  lovely  crea 
ture,  with  bright  eyes,  that  comes  under  the  tree  every  day, 
and  wants  me  to  come  down  in  the  grass  and  play  with  her." 

"  My  son,  my  son,  beware  !  "  said  the  frightened  mother  j 
"  that  lovely  seeming  creature  is  our  dreadful  enemy,  the 
cat,  —  a  horrid  monster,  with  teeth  and  claws." 


THE   HISTORY  OF  TIP-TOP  25 

At  this,  all  the  little  birds  shuddered  and  cuddled  deeper 
in  the  nest;  only  Tip-Top,  in  his  heart,  disbelieved  it. 

"  I  'm  too  old  a  bird,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  to  believe 
that  story  ;  mother  is  chaffing  me.  But  I  '11  show  her  that 
I  can  take  care  of  myself." 

So  the  next  morning,  after  the  father  and  mother  were 
gone,  Tip-Top  got  on  the  edge  of  the  nest  again,  and  looked 
over  and  saw  lovely  Miss  Pussy  washing  her  face  among 
the  daisies  under  the  tree,  and  her  hair  was  sleek  and  white 
as  the  daisies,  and  her  eyes  were  yellow  and  beautiful  to 
behold,  and  she  looked  up  to  the  tree  bewitchingly,  and 
said,  "  Little  birds,  little  birds,  come  down ;  Pussy  wants 
to  play  with  you." 

"  Only  look  at  her  !  "  said  Tip-Top  ;  "  her  eyes  are  like 
gold." 

"  No,  don't  look,"  said  Singer  and  Speckle.  "  She  will 
bewitch  you  and  then  eat  you  up." 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  her  try  to  eat  me  up,"  said  Tip-Top, 
again  balancing  his  short  tail  over  the  nest.  "  Just  as  if 
she  would.  She  's  just  the  nicest,  most  innocent  creature 
going,  and  only  wants  us  to  have  fun.  We  never  do  have 
any  fun  in  this  old  nest ! " 

Then  the  yellow  eyes  below  shot  a  bewildering  light  into 
Tip-Top's  eyes,  and  a  voice  sounded  sweet  as  silver : 
"  Little  birds,  little  birds,  come  down ;  Pussy  wants  to 
play  with  you." 

"  Her  paws  are  as  white  as  velvet,"  said  Tip-Top ;  "  and 
so  soft !  I  don't  believe  she  has  any  claws." 

"  Don't  go,  brother,  don't !  "  screamed  both  sisters. 

All  we  know  about  it  is,  that  a  moment  after  a  direful 
scream  was  heard  from  the  nursery  window.  "  0  mamma, 
mamma,  do  come  here  !  Tip-Top  's  fallen  out  of  the  nest, 
and  the  cat  has  got  him !  " 

Away  ran  Pussy  with  foolish  little  Tip-Top  in  her 
mouth,  and  he  squeaked  dolefully  when  he  felt  her  sharp 


26  QUEER  LITTLE    PEOPLE 

teeth.  Wicked  Miss  Pussy  had  no  mind  to  eat  him  at 
once  ;  she  meant  just  as  she  said,  to  "  play  with  him." 
So  she  ran  off  to  a  private  place  among  the  currant-bushes, 
while  all  the  little  curly  heads  were  scattered  up  and  down 
looking  for  her. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  cat  play  with  a  bird  or  a  mouse  ? 
She  sets  it  down,  and  seems  to  go  off  and  leave  it ;  but  the 
moment  it  makes  the  first  movement  to  get  away,  —  pounce  ! 
she  springs  on  it,  and  shakes  it  in  her  mouth ;  and  so  she 
teases  and  tantalizes  it,  till  she  gets  ready  to  kill  and  eat  it. 
I  can't  say  why  she  does  it,  except  that  it  is  a  cat's  nature ; 
and  it  is  a  very  bad  nature  for  foolish  young  robins  to  get 
acquainted  with. 

"  Oh,  where  is  he  ?  where  is  he  ?  Do  find  my  poor  Tip- 
Top,"  said  Jamie,  crying  as  loud  as  he  could  scream.  "I'll 
kill  that  horrid  cat,  —  I  '11  kill  her  !  " 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Eobin,  who  had  come  home  meantime, 
joined  their  plaintive  chirping  to  the  general  confusion ; 
and  Mrs.  Robin's  bright  eyes  soon  discovered  her  poor 
little  son,  where  Pussy  was  patting  and  rolling  him  from 
one  paw  to  the  other  under  the  currant-bushes ;  and  settling 
on  the  bush  above,  she  called  the  little  folks  to  the  spot  by 
her  cries. 

Jamie  plunged  under  the  bush,  and  caught  the  cat  with 
luckless  Tip-Top  in  her  mouth ;  and,  with  one  or  two  good 
thumps,  he  obliged  her  to  let  him  go.  Tip-Top  was  not 
dead,  but  in  a  sadly  draggled  and  torn  state.  Some  of  his 
feathers  were  torn  out,  and  one  of  his  wings  was  broken, 
and  hung  down  in  a  melancholy  way. 

"  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  for  him  ?  He  will  die.  Poor 
Tip-Top !  "  said  the  children. 

"  Let  ?s  put  him  back  into  the  nest,  children,"  said 
mamma.  "His  mother  will  know  best  what  to  do  with 
him." 

So  a  ladder  was  got,  and  papa  climbed  up  and  put  poor 


THE   HISTOEY   OF  TIP-TOP  27 

Tip-Top  safely  into  the  nest.  The  cat  had  shaken  all  the 
nonsense  well  out  of  him ;  he  was  a  dreadfully  humbled 
young  robin. 

The  time  came  at  last  when  all  the  other  birds  in  the 
nest  learned  to  fly,  and  fluttered  and  flew  about  everywhere  ; 
but  poor  melancholy  Tip-Top  was  still  confined  to  the  nest 
with  a  broken  wing.  Finally,  as  it  became  evident  that  it 
would  be  long  before  he  could  fly,  Jamie  took  him  out  of 
the  nest,  and  made  a  nice  little  cage  for  him,  and  used  to 
feed  him  every  day,  and  he  would  hop  about  and  seem 
tolerably  contented  ;  but  it  was  evident  that  he  would  be 
a  lame-winged  robin  all  his  days. 

Jamie's  mother  told  him  that  Tip-Top's  history  was  an 
allegory. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  mamma,"  said  Jamie. 

"  When  something  in  a  bird's  life  is  like  something  in  a 
boy's  life,  or  when  a  story  is  similar  in  its  meaning  to  reality, 
we  call  it  an  allegory.  Little  boys,  when  they  are  about 
half  grown  up,  sometimes  do  just  as  Tip-Top  did.  They  are 
in  a  great  hurry  to  get  away  from  home  into  the  great  world  ; 
and  then  Temptation  comes,  with  bright  eyes  and  smooth 
velvet  paws,  and  promises  them  fun ;  and  they  go  to  bad 
places  ;  they  get  to  smoking,  and  then  to  drinking ;  and, 
finally,  the  bad  habit  gets  them  in  its  teeth  and  claws,  and 
plays  with  them  as  a  cat  does  with  a  mouse.  They  try  to 
reform,  just  as  your  robin  tried  to  get  away  from  the  cat ; 
but  their  bad  habits  pounce  on  them  and  drag  them  back. 
And  so,  when  the  time  comes  that  they  want  to  begin  life, 
they  are  miserable,  broken-down  creatures,  like  your  broken- 
winged  robin. 

"  So,  Jamie,  remember,  and  don't  try  to  be  a  man  before 
your  time,  and  let  your  parents  judge  for  you  while  you  are 
young ;  and  never  believe  in  any  soft  white  Pussy,  with 
golden  eyes,  that  comes  and  wants  to  tempt  you  to  come 


28  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

down  and  play  with  her.  If  a  big  boy  offers  to  teach  you 
to  smoke  a  cigar,  that  is  Pussy.  If  a  boy  wants  you  to 
go  into  a  billiard-saloon,  that  is  Pussy.  If  a  boy  wants  you 
to  learn  to  drink  anything  with  spirit  in  it,  however  sweet 
ened  and  disguised,  remember,  Pussy  is  there  ;  and  Pussy's 
claws  are  long,  and  Pussy's  teeth  are  strong  ;  and  if  she 
gives  you  one  shake  in  your  youth,  you  will  be  like  a 
broken-winged  robin  all  your  days." 


MISS   KATY-DID   AND  MISS  CEICKET 

Miss  KATY-DID  sat  on  the  branch  of  a  flowering  azalia, 
in  her  best  suit  of  fine  green  and  silver,  with  wings  of 
point-lace  from  Mother  Nature's  web. 

Miss  Katy  was  in  the  very  highest  possible  spirits,  be 
cause  her  gallant  cousin,  Colonel  Katy-did,  had  looked  in 
to  make  her  a  morning  visit.  It  was  a  fine  morning,  too, 
which  goes  for  as  much  among  the  Katy-dids  as  among  men 
and  women.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  morning  that  Miss  Katy 
thought  must  have  been  made  on  purpose  for  her  to  enjoy 
herself  in.  There  had  been  a  patter  of  rain  the  night  be 
fore,  which  had  kept  the  leaves  awake  talking  to  each  other 
till  nearly  morning,  but  by  dawn  the  small  winds  had  blown 
brisk  little  puff's,  and  whisked  the  heavens  clear  and  bright 
with  their  tiny  wings,  as  you  have  seen  Susan  clear  away 
the  cobwebs  in  your  mamma's  parlor ;  and  so  now  there 
were  only  left  a  thousand  blinking,  burning  water-drops, 
hanging  like  convex  mirrors  at  the  end  of  each  leaf,  and 
Miss  Kate  admired  herself  in  each  one. 

"  Certainly  I  am  a  pretty  creature,"  she  said  to  herself ; 
and  when  the  gallant  Colonel  said  something  about  being 
dazzled  by  her  beauty,  she  only  tossed  her  head  and  took 
it  as  quite  a  matter  of  course. 

"  The  fact  is,  my  dear  Colonel,"  she  said,  "  I  am  think 
ing  of  giving  a  party,  and  you  must  help  me  make  out  the 
lists." 

"  My  dear,  you  make  me  the  happiest  of  Katy-dids." 

"Now,"  said  Miss  Katy-did,  drawing  an  azalia-leaf  to 
wards  her,  "  let  us  see,  —  whom  shall  we  have  ?  The 


30  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

Fireflies,  of  course;  everybody  wants  them,  they  are  so 
brilliant ;  —  a  little  unsteady,  to  be  sure,  but  quite  in  the 
higher  circles." 

"  Yes,  we  must  have  the  Fireflies/7  echoed  the  Colonel. 

"  Well,  then,  —  and  the  Butterflies  and  the  Moths. 
Now,  there  's  a  trouble.  There  's  such  an  everlasting  tribe 
of  these  Moths ;  and  if  you  invite  dull  people  they  're 
always  sure  all  to  come,  every  one  of  them.  Still,  if  you 
have  the  Butterflies,  you  can't  leave  out  the  Moths." 

"  Old  Mrs.  Moth  has  been  laid  up  lately  with  a  gastric 
fever,  and  that  may  keep  two  or  three  of  the  Misses  Moth 
at  home,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Whatever  could  give  the  old  lady  such  a  turn  ?  "  said 
Miss  Katy.  "  I  thought  she  never  was  sick." 

"  I  suspect  it  's  high  living.  I  understand  she  and  her 
family  ate  up  a  whole  ermine  cape  last  month,  and  it  disa 
greed  with  them." 

"  For  my  part,  I  can't  conceive  how  the  Moths  can  live 
as  they  do,"  said  Miss  Katy  with  a  face  of  disgust.  "  Why, 
I  could  no  more  eat  worsted  and  fur,  as  they  do  —  " 

"  That  is  quite  evident  from  the  fairy-like  delicacy  of 
your  appearance,"  said  the  Colonel.  "  One  can  see  that 
nothing  so  gross  or  material  has  ever  entered  into  your 
system." 

"  I  'm  sure,"  said  Miss  Katy,  "  mamma  says  she  don't 
know  what  does  keep  me  alive  ;  half  a  dewdrop  and  a  little 
bit  of  the  nicest  part  of  a  rose-leaf,  I  assure  you,  often  last 
me  for  a  day.  But  we  are  forgetting  our  list.  Let 's  see, 
—  the  Fireflies,  Butterflies,  Moths.  The  Bees  must  come, 
I  suppose." 

"  The  Bees  are  a  worthy  family,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Worthy  enough,  but  dreadfully  humdrum,"  said  Miss 
Katy.  "  They  never  talk  about  anything  but  honey  and 
housekeeping ;  still,  they  are  a  class  of  people  one  cannot 
neglect." 


MISS  KATY-DID   AND  MISS  CRICKET  31 

"Well,  then,  there  are  the  Bumble-Bees." 

"  Oh,  I  dote  on  them !  General  Bumble  is  one  of  the 
most  dashing,  brilliant  fellows  of  the  day." 

"  I  think  he  is  shockingly  corpulent,"  said  Colonel  Katy 
did,  not  at  all  pleased  to  hear  him  praised;  —  "don't 
you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  but  he  is  a  little  stout,"  said  Miss  Katy ; 
"  but  so  distinguished  and  elegant  in  his  manners,  —  some 
thing  martial  and  breezy  about  him." 

"  Well,  if  you  invite  the  Bumble-Bees  you  must  have 
the  Hornets." 

"  Those  spiteful  Hornets,  —  I  detest  them !  " 

"Nevertheless,  dear  Miss  Katy,  one  does  not  like  to 
offend  the  Hornets." 

"  No,  one  can't.  There  are  those  five  Misses  Hornet,  — 
dreadful  old  maids  !  —  as  full  of  spite  as  they  can  live. 
You  may  be  sure  they  will  every  one  come,  and  be  looking 
about  to  make  spiteful  remarks.  Put  down  the  Hornets, 
though." 

"  How  about  the  Mosquitoes  !  "  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Those  horrid  Mosquitoes,  —  they  are  dreadfully  plebe 
ian  !  Can't  one  cut  them  ?  " 

"Well,  dear  Miss  Katy,"  said  the  Colonel,  "if  you  ask 
my  candid  opinion  as  a  friend,  I  should  say  not.  There 's 
young  Mosquito,  who  graduated  last  year,  has  gone  into 
literature,  and  is  connected  with  some  of  our  leading  papers, 
and  they  say  he  carries  the  sharpest  pen  of  all  the  writers. 
It  won't  do  to  offend  him." 

"  And  so  I  suppose  we  must  have  his  old  aunts,  and  all 
six  of  his  sisters,  and  all  his  dreadfully  common  relations." 

"It  is  a  pity,"  said  the  Colonel,  " but  one  must  pay 
one's  tax  to  society." 

Just  at  this  moment  the  conference  was  interrupted  by  a 
visitor,  Miss  Keziah  Cricket,  who  came  in  with  her  work- 
bag  on  her  arm  to  ask  a  subscription  for  a  poor  family  of 


32  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

Ants  who  had  just  had  their  house  hoed  up  in  clearing  the 
garden-walks. 

"  How  stupid  of  them,"  said  Katy,  "  not  to  know  better 
than  to  put  their  house  in  the  garden-walk ;  that  's  just  like 
those  Ants !  " 

"  Well,  they  are  in  great  trouble  ;  all  their  stores  de 
stroyed,  and  their  father  killed,  —  cut  quite  in  two  by  a 
hoe." 

"  How  very  shocking  !  I  don't  like  to  hear  of  such  dis 
agreeable  things,  —  it  affects  my  nerves  terribly.  Well,  I  'm 
sure  I  have  n't  anything  to  give.  Mamma  said  yesterday 
she  was  sure  she  did  n't  know  how  our  bills  were  to  be 
paid,  —  and  there 's  my  green  satin  with  point-lace  yet  to 
come  home."  And  Miss  Katy-did  shrugged  her  shoulders 
and  affected  to  be  very  busy  with  Colonel  Katy-did,  in  just 
the  way  that  young  ladies  sometimes  do  when  they  wish  to 
signify  to  visitors  that  they  had  better  leave. 

Little  Miss  Cricket  perceived  how  the  case  stood,  and  so 
hopped  briskly  off,  without  giving  herself  even  time  to  be 
offended. 

"  Poor  extravagant  little  thing ! "  said  she  to  herself, 
"  it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  ask  her." 

"  Pray,  shall  you  invite  the  Crickets  ?  "  said  Colonel 
Katy-did. 

"  Who  ?  I  ?  Why,  Colonel,  what  a  question !  Invite 
the  Crickets  ?  Of  what  can  you  be  thinking  ?  " 

"  And  shall  you  not  ask  the  Locusts,  or  the  Grass 
hoppers  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  The  Locusts,  of  course,  —  a  very  old  and 
distinguished  family  ;  and  the  Grasshoppers  are  pretty  well, 
and  ought  to  be  asked.  But  we  must  draw  a  line  some 
where,  —  and  the  Crickets  !  why,  it 's  shocking  even  to 
think  of !  " 

"  I  thought  they  were  nice,  respectable  people." 

"  Oh,  perfectly  nice  and  respectable,  —  very  good  people, 


MISS   KATY-DID   AND  MISS   CRICKET  33 

in  fact,  so  far  as  that  goes.  But  then  you  must  see  the 
difficulty." 

"  My  dear  cousin,  I  am  afraid  you  must  explain." 

"  Why,  their  color,  to  be  sure.     Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  the  Colonel.  "  That's  it,  is  it  ?  Excuse 
me,  but  I  have  been  living  in  France,  where  these  distinc 
tions  are  wholly  unknown,  and  I  have  not  yet  got  myself 
in  the  train  of  fashionable  ideas  here." 

"  Well,  then,  let  me  teach  you,"  said  Miss  Katy.  "  You 
know  we  republicans  go  for  no  distinctions  except  those 
created  by  Nature  herself,  and  we  found  our  rank  upon 
color,  because  that  is  clearly  a  thing  that  none  has  any  hand 
in  but  our  Maker.  You  see  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  who  decides  what  color  shall  be  the  reigning 
color  ?  " 

"  I  'm  surprised  to  hear  the  question !  The  only  true 
color  —  the  only  proper  one  —  is  our  color,  to  be  sure.  A 
lovely  pea-green  is  the  precise  shade  on  which  to  found 
aristocratic  distinction.  But  then  we  are  liberal ;  —  we  as 
sociate  with  the  Moths,  who  are  gray ;  with  the  Butterflies, 
who  are  blue-and-gold-colored ;  with  the  Grasshoppers,  yel 
low  and  brown  ;  —  and  society  would  become  dreadfully 
mixed  if  it  were  not  fortunately  ordered  that  the  Crickets 
are  black  as  jet.  The  fact  is,  that  a  class  to  be  looked 
down  upon  is  necessary  to  all  elegant  society,  and  if  the 
Crickets  were  not  black,  we  could  not  keep  them  down, 
because,  as  everybody  knows,  they  are  often  a  great  deal 
cleverer  than  we  are.  They  have  a  vast  talent  for  music 
and  dancing ;  they  are  very  quick  at  learning,  and  would 
be  getting  to  the  very  top  of  the  ladder  if  we  once  allowed 
them  to  climb.  But  their  being  black  is  a  convenience,  — 
because,  as  long  as  we  are  green  and  they  black,  we  have  a 
superiority  that  can  never  be  taken  from  us.  Don't  you 
see,  now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see  exactly,"  said  the  Colonel. 


34  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

"  Now  that  Keziah  Cricket,  who  just  came  in  here,  is 
quite  a  musician,  and  her  old  father  plays  the  violin  beau 
tifully  ;  —  by  the  way,  we  might  engage  him  for  our  or 
chestra." 

And  so  Miss  Katy's  hall  came  off,  and  the  performers 
kept  it  up  from  sundown  till  daybreak,  so  that  it  seemed  as 
if  every  leaf  in  the  forest  were  alive.  The  Katy-dids,  and 
the  Mosquitoes,  and  the  Locusts,  and  a  full  orchestra  of 
Crickets  made  the  air  perfectly  vibrate,  insomuch  that  old 
Parson  Too -whit,  who  was  preaching  a  Thursday  evening 
lecture  to  a  very  small  audience,  announced  to  his  hearers 
that  he  should  certainly  write  a  discourse  against  dancing 
for  the  next  weekly  occasion. 

The  good  Doctor  was  even  with  his  word  in  the  matter, 
and  gave  out  some  very  sonorous  discourses,  without  in  the 
least  stopping  the  round  of  gayeties  kept  up  by  these  dissi 
pated  Katy-dids,  which  ran  on,  night  after  night,  till  the 
celebrated  Jack  Frost  epidemic,  which  occurred  somewhere 
about  the  first  of  September. 

Poor  Miss  Katy,  with  her  flimsy  green  satin  and  point- 
lace,  was  one  of  the  first  victims,  and  fell  from  the  bough 
in  company  with  a  sad  shower  of  last  year's  leaves.  The 
worthy  Cricket  family,  however,  avoided  Jack  Frost  by 
emigrating  in  time  to  the  chimney-corner  of  a  nice  little 
cottage  that  had  been  built  in  the  wood  that  summer. 

There  good  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cricket,  with  sprightly 
Miss  Keziah  and  her  brothers  and  sisters,  found  a  warm 
and  welcome  home  ;  and  when  the  storm  howled  without, 
and  lashed  the  poor  naked  trees,  the  Crickets  on  the  warm 
hearth  would  chirp  out  cheery  welcome  to  papa  as  he  came 
in  from  the  snowy  path,  or  mamma  as  she  sat  at  her  work- 
basket. 

"  Cheep,  cheep,  cheep ! "  little  Freddy  would  say.  "  Mam 
ma,  who  is  it  says  '  cheep ?  ?  " 


MISS   KATY-DID  AND  MISS  CRICKET  35 

"  Dear  Freddy,  it  7s  our  own  dear  little  cricket,  who 
loves  us  and  comes  to  sing  to  us  when  the  snow  is  on  the 
ground." 

So  when  poor  Miss  Katy-did's  satin  and  lace  were  all 
swept  away,  the  warm  home-talents  of  the  Crickets  made 
for  them  a  welcome  refuge. 


MOTHEE  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF 

OLD  MOTHER  MAGPIE  was  about  the  busiest  character 
in  the  forest.  But  you  must  know  that  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  being  busy  and  being  industrious.  One 
may  be  very  busy  all  the  time,  and  yet  not  in  the  least  in 
dustrious  ;  and  this  was  the  case  with  Mother  Magpie. 

She  was  always  full  of  everybody's  business  but  her  own, 
— up  and  down,  here  and  there,  everywhere  but  in  her  own 
nest,  knowing  every  one's  affairs,  telling  what  everybody 
had  been  doing  or  ought  to  do,  and  ready  to  cast  her  advice 
gratis  at  every  bird  and  beast  of  the  woods. 

Now  she  bustled  up  to  the  parsonage  at  the  top  of  the 
oak-tree,  to  tell  old  Parson  Too-whit  what  she  thought  he 
ought  to  preach  for  his  next  sermon,  and  how  dreadful  the 
morals  of  the  parish  were  becoming.  Then,  having  per 
fectly  bewildered  the  poor  old  gentleman,  who  was  always 
sleepy  of  a  Monday  morning,  Mother  Magpie  would  take 
a  peep  into  Mrs.  Oriole's  nest,  sit  chattering  on  a  bough 
above,  and  pour  forth  floods  of  advice,  which,  poor  little 
Mrs.  Oriole  used  to  say  to  her  husband,  bewildered  her  more 
than  a  hard  northeast  storm. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  my  dear,"  Mother  Magpie  would  say, 
"  that  this  way  of  building  your  nest,  swinging  like  an  old 
empty  stocking  from  a  bough,  is  n't  at  all  the  thing.  I 
never  built  one  so  in  my  life,  and  I  never  have  headaches. 
Now  you  complain  always  that  your  head  aches  whenever  I 
call  upon  you.  It  ?s  all  on  account  of  this  way  of  swinging 
and  swaying  about  in  such  an  absurd  manner." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  piped  Mrs.  Oriole,  timidly,  "  the  Orioles 


MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF  37 

always  have  built  in  this  manner,  and  it  suits  our  consti 
tution." 

"  A  fiddle  on  our  constitution  !  How  can  you  tell  what 
agrees  with  your  constitution  unless  you  try  ?  You  own 
you  are  not  well ;  you  are  subject  to  headaches,  and  every 
physician  will  tell  you  that  a  tilting  motion  disorders  the 
stomach  and  acts  upon  the  brain.  Ask  old  Dr.  Kite.  I 
was  talking  with  him  about  your  case  only  yesterday,  and 
says  he,  '  Mrs.  Magpie,  I  perfectly  agree  with  you.'  r' 

"  But  my  husband  prefers  this  style  of  building." 

"That  's  only  because  he  is  n't  properly  instructed. 
Pray,  did  you  ever  attend  Dr.  Kite's  lectures  on  the  ner 
vous  system  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  no  time  to  attend  lectures.  Who  would 
set  on  the  eggs  ?  " 

"  Why,  your  husband,  to  be  sure ;  don't  he  take  his 
turn  in  setting  ?  If  he  don't  he  ought  to.  I  shall  speak 
to  him  about  it.  My  husband  always  sets  regularly  half 
the  time,  that  I  might  have  time  to  go  about  and  exercise." 

"  0  Mrs.  Magpie,  pray  don't  speak  to  my  husband  ;  he 
will  think  I  've  been  complaining." 

"  No,  no,  he  won't !  Let  me  alone.  I  understand  just 
how  to  say  the  thing.  I  've  advised  hundreds  of  young 
husbands  in  my  day,  and  I  never  give  offence." 

"  But  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Magpie,  I  don't  want  any  inter 
ference  between  my  husband  and  me,  and  I  will  not  have 
it,"  says  Mrs.  Oriole,  with  her  little  round  eyes  flashing. 

"  Don't  put  yourself  in  a  passion,  my  dear ;  the  more 
you  talk,  the  more  sure  I  am  that  your  nervous  system  is 
running  down,  or  you  would  n't  forget  good  manners  in  this 
way.  You  'd  better  take  my  advice,  for  I  understand  just 
what  to  do,"  —  and  away  sails  Mother  Magpie  ;  and  pres 
ently  young  Oriole  comes  home,  all  in  a  flutter. 

"  I  say,  my  dear,  if  you  will  persist  in  gossiping  over  our 
private  family  matters  with  that  old  Mother  Magpie  —  " 


38  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

"  My  dear,  I  don't  gossip  ;  she  comes  and  bores  me  to 
death  with  talking,  and  then  goes  off  and  mistakes  what 
she  has  been  saying  for  what  I  said." 

"  But  you  must  cut  her." 

"  I  try  to,  all  I  can  ;   but  she  won't  be  cut." 

"  It  }s  enough  to  make  a  bird  swear,"  said  Tommy  Oriole. 

Tommy  Oriole,  to  say  the  truth,  had  as  good  a  heart  as 
ever  beat  under  bird's  feathers  ;  but  then  he  had  a  weakness 
for  concerts  and  general  society,  because  he  was  held  to  be, 
by  all  odds,  the  handsomest  bird  in  the  woods,  and  sung  like 
an  angel ;  and  so  the  truth  was  he  did  n't  confine  himself 
so  much  to  the  domestic  nest  as  Tom  Titmouse  or  Billy 
Wren.  But  he  determined  that  he  would  n't  have  old 
Mother  Magpie  interfering  with  his  affairs. 

"  The  fact  is,"  quoth  Tommy,  "  I  am  a  society  bird,  and 
Nature  has  marked  out  for  me  a  course  beyond  the  range  of 
the  commonplace,  and  my  wife  must  learn  to  accommodate. 
If  she  has  a  brilliant  husband,  whose  success  gratifies  her 
ambition  and  places  her  in  a  distinguished  public  position, 
she  must  pay  something  for  it.  I  'm  sure  Billy  Wren's  wife 
would  give  her  very  bill  to  see  her  husband  in  the  circles 
where  I  am  quite  at  home.  To  say  the  truth,  my  wife  was 
all  well  enough  content  till  old  Mother  Magpie  interfered. 
It  is  quite  my  duty  to  take  strong  ground,  and  show  that  I 
cannot  be  dictated  to." 

So,  after  this,  Tommy  Oriole  went  to  rather  more  con 
certs,  and  spent  less  time  at  home  than  ever  he  did  before, 
which  was  all  that  Mother  Magpie  effected  in  that  quarter. 
I  confess  this  was  very  bad  in  Tommy  ;  but  then  birds  are 
no  better  than  men  in  domestic  matters,  and  sometimes  will 
take  the  most  unreasonable  courses,  if  a  meddlesome  Mag 
pie  gets  her  claw  into  their  nest. 

But  old  Mother  Magpie  had  now  got  a  new  business  in 
hand  in  another  quarter.  She  bustled  off  down  to  Water- 
dock  Lane,  where,  as  we  said  in  a  former  narrative,  lived 


MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF  39 

the  old  music-teacher,  Dr.  Bullfrog.  The  poor  old  Doctor 
was  a  simple-minded,  good,  amiable  creature,  who  had  played 
the  double-bass  and  led  the  forest  choir  on  all  public  occa 
sions  since  nobody  knows  when.  Latterly  some  youngsters 
had  arisen  who  sneered  at  his  performances  as  behind  the 
age.  In  fact,  since  a  great  city  had  grown  up  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  forest,  tribes  of  wandering  boys  broke  up  the  simple 
tastes  and  quiet  habits  which  old  Mother  Nature  had  always 
kept  up  in  those  parts.  They  pulled  the  young  checker- 
berry  before  it  even  had  time  to  blossom,  rooted  up  the 
sassafras  shrubs  and  gnawed  their  roots,  fired  off  guns  at 
the  birds,  and,  on  several  occasions  when  old  Dr.  Bullfrog 
was  leading  a  concert,  had  dashed  in  and  broken  up  the 
choir  by  throwing  stones. 

This  was  not  the  worst  of  it.  The  little  varlets  had  a 
way  of  jeering  at  the  simple  old  Doctor  and  his  concerts, 
and  mimicking  the  tones  of  his  bass-viol.  "  There  you  go, 
Paddy-go-donk,  Paddy-go-donk  —  umph  —  chunk,'7  some  ras 
cal  of  a  boy  would  shout,  while  poor  old  Bullfrog's  yellow 
spectacles  would  be  bedewed  with  tears  of  honest  indignation. 
In  time,  the  jeers  of  these  little  savages  began  to  tell  on 
the  society  in  the  forest,  and  to  corrupt  their  simple  man 
ners  ;  and  it  was  whispered  among  the  younger  and  more 
heavy  birds  and  squirrels,  that  old  Bullfrog  was  a  bore,  and 
that  it  was  time  to  get  up  a  new  style  of  music  in  the 
parish,  and  to  give  the  charge  of  it  to  some  more  modern 
performer.  Poor  old  Dr.  Bullfrog  knew  nothing  of  this, 
however,  and  was  doing  his  simple  best,  in  peace,  when 
Mother  Magpie  called  in  upon  him,  one  morning. 

"  Well,  neighbor,  how  unreasonable  people  are  !  Who 
would  have  thought  that  the  youth  of  our  generation 
should  have  no  more  consideration  for  established  merit  ? 
Now,  for  my  part,  /  think  your  music-teaching  never  was 
better ;  and  as  for  our  choir,  I  maintain  constantly  that  it 
never  was  in  better  order,  but  —  Well,  one  may  wear  her 


40  QUEER   LITTLE   PEOPLE 

tongue  out,  but  one  can  never  make  these  young  folks  lis 
ten  to  reason.'7 

"  I  really  don't  understand  you,  ma'am,"  said  poor  Dr. 
Bullfrog. 

"  What !  you  have  n't  heard  of  a  committee  that  is  go 
ing  to  call  on  you,  to  ask  you  to  resign  the  care  of  the  par 
ish  music  ?  " 

"  Madam,"  said  Dr.  Bullfrog,  with  all  that  energy  of 
tone  for  which  he  was  remarkable,  "  I  don't  believe  it, —  I 
can't  believe  it.  You  must  have  made  a  mistake." 

"  I  mistake  !  No,  no,  my  good  friend ;  I  never  make 
mistakes.  What  I  know,  I  know  certainly.  Was  n't  it  I 
that  said  I  knew  there  was  an  engagement  between  Tim 
Chipmunk  and  Nancy  Nibble,  who  are  married  this  blessed 
day  ?  I  knew  that  thing  six  weeks  before  any  bird  or 
beast  in  our  parts ;  and  I  can  tell  you,  you  are  going  to  be 
scandalously  and  ungratefully  treated,  Dr.  Bullfrog." 

"  Bless  me,  we  shall  all  be  ruined  !  "  said  Mrs.  Bullfrog  ; 
u  my  poor  husband  —  " 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  if  you  take  things  in  time,  and  listen  to 
my  advice,"  said  Mother  Magpie,  "  we  may  yet  pull  you 
through.  You  must  alter  your  style  a  little,  —  adapt  it  to 
modern  times.  Everybody  now  is  a  little  touched  with  the 
operatic  fever,  and  there  's  Tommy  Oriole  has  been  to  New 
Orleans  and  brought  back  a  touch  of  the  artistic.  If  you 
would  try  his  style  a  little,  —  something  Tyrolean,  you 
see." 

"Dear  madam,  consider  my  voice.  I  never  could  hit 
the  high  notes." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  It 's  all  practice  ;  Tommy  Oriole 
says  so.  Just  try  the  scales.  As  to  your  voice,  your  man 
ner  of  living  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  I  always  did 
tell  you  that  your  passion  for  water  injured  your  singing. 
Suppose  Tommy  Oriole  should  sit  half  his  days  up  to  his 
hips  in  water,  as  you  do,  —  his  voice  would  be  as  hoarse 


MOTHER  MAGPIE'S  MISCHIEF  41 

and  rough  as  yours.  Come  up  on  the  bank,  and  learn  to 
perch  as  we  birds  do.  We  are  the  true  musical  race.77 

And  so  poor  Mr.  Bullfrog  was  persuaded  to  forego  his 
pleasant  little  cottage  under  the  cat-tails,  where  his  yellow 
spectacles  and  honest  round  back  had  excited,  even  in  the 
minds  of  the  boys,  sentiments  of  respect  and  compassion. 
He  came  up  into  the  garden,  and  established  himself  under 
a  burdock,  and  began  to  practise  Italian  scales. 

The  result  was,  that  poor  old  Dr.  Bullfrog,  instead  of 
being  considered  as  a  respectable  old  bore,  got  himself  uni 
versally  laughed  at  for  aping  fashionable  manners.  Every 
bird  and  beast  in  the  forest  had  a  gibe  at  him ;  and  even 
old  Parson  Too -whit  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  make 
him  a  pastoral  call,  and  admonish  him  about  courses  unbe 
fitting  his  age  and  standing.  As  to  Mother  Magpie,  you 
may  be  sure  that  she  assured  every  one  how  sorry  she  was 
that  dear  old  Dr.  Bullfrog  had  made  such  a  fool  of  him 
self  ;  if  he  had  taken  her  advice,  he  would  have  kept  on 
respectably  as  a  nice  old  Bullfrog  should. 

But  the  tragedy  for  the  poor  old  music-teacher  grew  even 
more  melancholy  in  its  termination  ;  for  one  day  as  he  was 
sitting  disconsolately  under  a  currant-bush  in  the  garden, 
practising  his  poor  old  notes  in  a  quiet  way,  thump  came 
a  great  blow  of  a  hoe,  which  nearly  broke  his  back. 

"  Hullo  !  what  ugly  beast  have  we  got  here  ?  "  said  Tom 
Noakes,  the  gardener's  boy.  "  Here,  here,  Wasp,  my  boy." 

What  a  fright  for  a  poor,  quiet,  old  Bullfrog,  as  little 
wiry,  wicked  Wasp  came  at  him,  barking  and  yelping.  He 
jumped  with  all  his  force  sheer  over  a  patch  of  bushes  into 
the  river,  and  swam  back  to  his  old  home  among  the  cat 
tails.  And  always  after  that  it  was  observable  that  he  was 
very  low-spirited,  and  took  very  dark  views  of  life  ;  but 
nothing  made  him  so  angry  as  any  allusion  to  Mother  Mag 
pie,  of  whom,  from  that  time,  he  never  spoke  except  as 
Old  Mother  Mischief. 


THE   SQUIEEELS   THAT   LIVED   IN   A   HOUSE 

ONCE  upon  a  time  a  gentleman  went  out  into  a  great 
forest,  and  cut  away  the  trees,  and  built  there  a  very  nice 
little  cottage.  It  was  set  very  low  on  the  ground,  and  had 
very  large  bow-windows,  and  so  much  of  it  was  glass  that 
one  could  look  through  it  on  every  side  and  see  what  was 
going  on  in  the  forest.  You  could  see  the  shadows  of  the 
fern-leaves,  as  they  nickered  and  wavered  over  the  ground, 
and  the  scarlet  partridge-berry  and  wintergreen  plums  that 
matted  round  the  roots  of  the  trees,  and  the  bright  spots 
of  sunshine  that  fell  through  their  branches  and  went  danc 
ing  about  among  the  bushes  and  leaves  at  their  roots. 
You  could  see  the  little  chipping  sparrows  and  thrushes 
and  robins  and  bluebirds  building  their  nests  here  and 
there  among  the  branches,  and  watch  them  from  day  to  day 
as  they  laid  their  eggs  and  hatched  their  young.  You  could 
also  see  red  squirrels,  and  gray  squirrels,  and  little  striped 
chip-squirrels,  darting  and  springing  about,  here  and  there 
and  everywhere,  running  races  with  each  other  from  bough 
to  bough,  and  chattering  at  each  other  in  the  gayest  possi 
ble  manner. 

You  may  be  sure  that  such  a  strange  thing  as  a  great 
mortal  house  for  human  beings  to  live  in  did  not  come  into 
this  wild  wood  without  making  quite  a  stir  and  excitement 
among  the  inhabitants  that  lived  there  before.  All  the 
time  it  was  building,  there  was  the  greatest  possible  com 
motion  in  the  breasts  of  all  the  older  population  ;  and  there 
was  n't  even  a  black  ant,  or  a  cricket,  that  did  not  have  his 
own  opinion  about  it,  and  did  not  tell  the  other  ants  and 


THE   SQUIRKELS   THAT  LIVED  IN  A  HOUSE  43 

crickets  just  what  he  thought  the  world  was  coming  to  in 
consequence. 

Old  Mrs.  B/abbit  declared  that  the  hammering  and 
pounding  made  her  nervous,  and  gave  her  most  melancholy 
forebodings  of  evil  times.  "  Depend  upon  it,  children," 
she  said  to  her  long-eared  family,  "  no  good  will  come  to 
us  from  this  establishment.  Where  man  is,  there  comes 
always  trouble  for  us  poor  rabbits.'' 

The  old  chestnut-tree,  that  grew  on  the  edge  of  the 
woodland  ravine,  drew  a  great  sigh  which  shook  all  his 
leaves,  and  expressed  it  as  his  conviction  that  no  good 
would  ever  come  of  it,  —  a  conviction  that  at  once  struck 
to  the  heart  of  every  chestnut-burr.  The  squirrels  talked 
together  of  the  dreadful  state  of  things  that  would  ensue. 
"Why  !  "  said  old  Father  Gray,  "it's  evident  that  Nature 
made  the  nuts  for  us ;  but  one  of  these  great  human  crea 
tures  will  carry  off  and  gormandize  upon  what  would  keep 
a  hundred  poor  families  of  squirrels  in  comfort."  Old 
Ground-mole  said  it  did  not  require  very  sharp  eyes  to  see 
into  the  future,  and  it  would  just  end  in  bringing  down  the 
price  of  real  estate  in  the  whole  vicinity,  so  that  every 
decent-minded  and  respectable  quadruped  would  be  obliged 
to  move  away  ;  —  for  his  part,  he  was  ready  to  sell  out  for 
anything  he  could  get.  The  bluebirds  and  bobolinks,  it  is 
true,  took  more  cheerful  views  of  matters ;  but  then,  as  old 
Mrs.  Ground-mole  observed,  they  were  a  flighty  set,  —  half 
their  time  careering  and  dissipating  in  the  Southern  States, 
—  and  could  not  be  expected  to  have  that  patriotic  attach 
ment  to  their  native  soil  that  those  had  who  had  grubbed 
in  it  from  their  earliest  days. 

"  This  race  of  man,"  said  the  old  chestnut- tree,  "  is 
never  ceasing  in  its  restless  warfare  on  Nature.  In  our 
forest  solitudes,  hitherto,  how  peacefully,  how  quietly,  how 
regularly  has  everything  gone  on  !  Not  a  flower  has  missed 
its  appointed  time  of  blossoming,  or  failed  to  perfect  its 


44  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

fruit.  No  matter  how  hard  has  been  the  winter,  how  loud 
the  winds  have  roared,  and  how  high  the  snow-banks  have 
been  piled,  all  has  come  right  again  in  spring.  Not  the 
least  root  has  lost  itself  under  the  snows,  so  as  not  to  be 
ready  with  its  fresh  leaves  and  blossoms  when  the  sun  re 
turns  to  melt  the  frosty  chains  of  winter.  We  have  storms 
sometimes  that  threaten  to  shake  everything  to  pieces,  — 
the  thunder  roars,  the  lightning  flashes,  and  the  winds 
howl  and  beat ;  but,  when  all  is  past,  everything  comes  out 
better  and  brighter  than  before,  —  not  a  bird  is  killed,  not 
the  frailest  flower  destroyed.  But  man  comes,  and  in  one 
day  he  will  make  a  desolation  that  centuries  cannot  repair. 
Ignorant  boor  that  he  is,  and  all  incapable  of  appreciating 
the  glorious  works  of  Nature,  it  seems  to  be  his  glory  to 
be  able  to  destroy  in  a  few  hours  what  it  was  the  work  of 
ages  to  produce.  The  noble  oak,  that  has  been  cut  away 
to  build  this  contemptible  human  dwelling,  had  a  life  older 
and  wiser  than  that  of  any  man  in  this  country.  That  tree 
has  seen  generations  of  men  come  and  go.  It  was  a  fresh 
young  tree  when  Shakespeare  was  born ;  it  was  hardly  a 
middle-aged  tree  when  he  died ;  it  was  growing  here  when 
the  first  ship  brought  the  white  men  to  our  shores ;  and 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  those  whom  they  call  bravest, 
wisest,  strongest,  —  warriors,  statesmen,  orators,  and  poets, 
—  have  been  born,  have  grown  up,  lived,  and  died,  while 
yet  it  has  outlived  them  all.  It  has  seen  more  wisdom 
than  the  best  of  them  ;  but  two  or  three  hours  of  brutal 
strength  sufficed  to  lay  it  low.  Which  of  these  dolts  could 
make  a  tree  ?  1 7d  like  to  see  them  do  anything  like  it. 
How  noisy  and  clumsy  are  all  their  movements,  —  chop 
ping,  pounding,  rasping,  hammering  !  And,  after  all,  what 
do  they  build  ?  In  the  forest  we  do  everything  so  quietly. 
A  tree  would  be  ashamed  of  itself  that  could  not  get  its 
growth  without  making  such  a  noise  and  dust  and  fuss. 
Our  life  is  the  perfection  of  good  manners.  For  my  part, 


THE  SQUIRRELS   THAT  LIVED  IN  A  HOUSE  45 

I  feel  degraded  at  the  mere  presence  of  these  human  beings  ; 
but,  alas  !  I  am  old  ;  —  a  hollow  place  at  my  heart  warns 
me  of  the  progress  of  decay,  and  probably  it  will  be  seized 
upon  by  these  rapacious  creatures  as  an  excuse  for  laying 
me  as  low  as  my  noble  green  brother.'7 

In  spite  of  all  this  disquiet  about  it,  the  little  cottage 
grew  and  was  finished.  The  walls  were  covered  with  pretty 
paper,  the  floors  carpeted  with  pretty  carpets ;  and,  in  fact, 
when  it  was  all  arranged,  and  the  garden  walks  laid  out, 
and  beds  of  flowers  planted  around,  it  began  to  be  confessed, 
even  among  the  most  critical,  that  it  was  not  after  all  so 
bad  a  thing  as  was  to  have  been  feared. 

A  black  ant  went  in  one  day  and  made  a  tour  of  explo 
ration  up  and  down,  over  chairs  and  tables,  up  the  ceilings 
and  down  again,  and,  coming  out,  wrote  an  article  for  the 
"  Crickets'  Gazette,"  in  which  he  described  the  new  abode 
as  a  veritable  palace.  Several  butterflies  fluttered  in  and 
sailed  about  and  were  wonderfully  delighted,  and  then  a 
bumble-bee  and  two  or  three  honey-bees,  who  expressed 
themselves  well  pleased  with  the  house,  but  more  especially 
enchanted  with  the  garden.  In  fact,  when  it  was  found 
that  the  proprietors  were  very  fond  of  the  rural  solitudes 
of  Nature,  and  had  come  out  there  for  the  purpose  of  en 
joying  them  undisturbed,  —  that  they  watched  and  spared 
the  anemones,  and  the  violets,  and  bloodroots,  and  dog's- 
tooth  violets,  and  little  woolly  rolls  of  fern  that  began  to 
grow  up  under  the  trees  in  spring,  —  that  they  never  allowed 
a  gun  to  be  fired  to  scare  the  birds,  and  watched  the  build 
ing  of  their  nests  with  the  greatest  interest,  —  then  an 
opinion  in  favor  of  human  beings  began  to  gain  ground, 
and  every  cricket  and  bird  and  beast  was  loud  in  their 
praise. 

"  Mamma,"  said  young  Tit-bit,  a  frisky  young  squirrel, 
to  his  mother  one  day,  "  why  won't  you  let  Frisky  and  me 
go  into  that  pretty  new  cottage  to  play  ?  " 


46  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  mother,  who  was  a  very  wary  and 
careful  old  squirrel,  "  how  can  you  think  of  it  ?  The  race 
of  man  are  full  of  devices  for  traps  and  pitfalls,  and  who 
could  say  what  might  happen  if  you  put  yourself  in  their 
power  ?  If  you  had  wings  like  the  butterflies  and  bees, 
you  might  fly  in  and  out  again,  and  so  gratify  your  curi 
osity  ;  but,  as  matters  stand,  it  7s  best  for  you  to  keep  well 
out  of  their  way.77 

"  But,  mother,  there  is  such  a  nice,  good  lady  lives  there  ! 
I  believe  she  is  a  good  fairy,  and  she  seems  to  love  us  all 
so ;  she  sits  in  the  bow-window  and  watches  us  for  hours, 
and  she  scatters  corn  all  round  at  the  roots  of  the  tree  for 
us  to  eat.77 

"  She  is  nice  enough,77  said  the  old  mother-squirrel,  "  if 
you  keep  far  enough  off ;  but  I  tell  you,  you  can7t  be  too 
careful.77 

Now  this  good  fairy  that  the  squirrels  discoursed  about 
was  a  nice  little  old  lady  that  the  children  used  to  call 
Aunt  Esther,  and  she  was  a  dear  lover  of  birds  and  squir 
rels,  and  all  sorts  of  animals,  and  had  studied  their  little 
ways  till  she  knew  just  what  would  please  them ;  and  so 
she  would  every  day  throw  out  crumbs  for  the  sparrows, 
and  little  bits  of  bread  and  wool  and  cotton  to  help  the 
birds  that  were  building  their  nests,  and  would  scatter  corn 
and  nuts  for  the  squirrels  ;  and  while  she  sat  at  her  work 
in  the*  bow- window  she  would  smile  to  see  the  birds  flying 
away  with  the  wool,  and  the  squirrels  nibbling  their  nuts. 
After  a  while  the  birds  grew  so  tame  that  they  would  hop 
into  the  bow-window,  and  eat  their  crumbs  off  the  carpet. 

"  There,  mamma,77  said  Tit-bit  and  Frisky,  "  only  see  ! 
Jenny  Wren  and  Cock  Eobin  have  been  in  at  the  bow-win 
dow,  and  it  did  n't  hurt  them,  and  why  can't  we  go  ? 77 

"  Well,  my  dears,77  said  old  Mother  Squirrel,  "  you  must 
do  it  very  carefully  :  never  forget  that  you  have  n7t  wings 
like  Jenny  Wren  and  Cock  Eobin.77 


THE   SQUIREELS  THAT  LIVED  IN  A  HOUSE  47 

So  the  next  day  Aunt  Esther  laid  a  train  of  com  from 
the  roots  of  the  trees  to  the  bow-window,  and  then  from  the 
bow-window  to  her  work-basket,  which  stood  on  the  floor 
beside  her ;  and  then  she  put  quite  a  handful  of  corn  in 
the  work-basket,  and  sat  down  by  it,  and  seemed  intent  on 
her  sewing.  Very  soon,  creep,  creep,  creep,  came  Tit-bit 
and  Frisky  to  the  window,  and  then  into  the  room,  just  as 
sly  and  as  still  as  could  be,  and  Aunt  Esther  sat  just  like  a 
statue  for  fear  of  disturbing  them.  They  looked  all  around 
in  high  glee,  and  when  they  came  to  the  basket  it  seemed  to 
them  a  wonderful  little  summer-house,  made  on  purpose  for 
them  to  play  in.  They  nosed  about  in  it,  and  turned  over 
the  scissors  and  the  needle-book,  and  took  a  nibble  at  her 
white  wax,  and  jostled  the  spools,  meanwhile  stowing  away 
the  corn  in  each  side  of  their  little  chops,  till  they  both  of 
them  looked  as  if  they  had  the  mumps. 

At  last  Aunt  Esther  put  out  her  hand  to  touch  them, 
when,  whisk-frisk,  out  they  went,  and  up  the  trees,  chat 
tering  and  laughing  before  she  had  time  even  to  wink. 

But  after  this  they  used  to  come  in  every  day,  and  when 
she  put  corn  in  her  hand  and  held  it  very  still  they  would 
eat  out  of  it ;  and,  finally,  they  would  get  into  her  hand, 
until  one  day  she  gently  closed  it  over  them,  and  Frisky  and 
Tit-bit  were  fairly  caught. 

Oh,  how  their  hearts  beat !  but  the  good  fairy  only  spoke 
gently  to  them,  and  soon  unclosed  her  hand  and  let  them  go 
again.  So,  day  after  day,  they  grew  to  have  more  and  more 
faith  in  her,  till  they  would  climb  into  her  work-basket,  sit 
on  her  shoulder,  or  nestle  away  in  her  lap  as  she  sat  sewing. 
They  made  also  long  exploring  voyages  all  over  the  house, 
up  and  through  all  the  chambers,  till  finally,  I  grieve  to  say, 
poor  Frisky  came  to  an  untimely  end  by  being  drowned  in 
the  water-tank  at  the  top  of  the  house. 

The  dear  good  fairy  passed  away  from  the  house  in  time, 
and  went  to  a  land  where  the  flowers  never  fade,  and  the 


48  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

birds  never  die ;  but  the  squirrels  still  continue  to  make  the 
place  a  favorite  resort. 

"  In  fact,  my  dear/7  said  old  Mother  Red  one  winter  to 
her  mate,  "  what  is  the  use  of  one's  living  in  this  cold  hol 
low  tree,  when  these  amiable  people  have  erected  this  pretty 
cottage  where  there  is  plenty  of  room  for  us  and  them  too  ? 
Now  I  have  examined  between  the  eaves,  and  there  is  a 
charming  place  where  we  can  store  our  nuts,  and  where  we 
can  whip  in  and  out  of  the  garret,  and  have  the  free  range 
of  the  house ;  and,  say  what  you  will,  these  humans  have 
delightful  ways  of  being  warm  and  comfortable  in  winter." 

So  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Red  set  up  housekeeping  in  the  cottage, 
and  had  no  end  of  nuts  and  other  good  things  stored  up 
there.  The  trouble  of  all  this  was  that,  as  Mrs.  Red  was 
a  notable  body,  and  got  up  to  begin  her  housekeeping  oper 
ations,  and  woke  up  all  her  children,  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  the  good  people  often  were  disturbed  by  a  great 
rattling  and  fuss  in  the  walls,  while  yet  it  seemed  dark 
night.  Then  sometimes,  too,  I  grieve  to  say,  Mrs.  Squirrel 
would  give  her  husband  vigorous  curtain  lectures  in  the  night, 
which  made  him  so  indignant  that  he  would  rattle  off  to  an 
other  quarter  of  the  garret  to  sleep  by  himself ;  and  all  this 
broke  the  rest  of  the  worthy  people  who  built  the  house. 

What  is  to  be  done  about  this  we  don't  know.  What 
would  you  do  about  it  ?  Would  you  let  the  squirrels  live 
in  your  house,  or  not  ?  When  our  good  people  come  down 
of  a  cold  winter  morning,  and  see  the  squirrels  dancing  and 
frisking  down  the  trees,  and  chasing  each  other  so  merrily 
over  the  garden-chair  between  them,  or  sitting  with  their 
tails  saucily  over  their  backs,  they  look  so  jolly  and  jaunty 
and  pretty  that  they  almost  forgive  them  for  disturbing 
their  night's  rest,  and  think  that  they  will  not  do  anything 
to  drive  them  out  of  the  garret  to-day.  And  so  it  goes  on ; 
but  how  long  the  squirrels  will  rent  the  cottage  in  this  fash 
ion,  I  'm  sure  I  dare  not  undertake  to  say. 


HUM,  THE  SON  OF  BUZ 

AT  Rye  Beach,  during  our  summer's  vacation,  there 
came,  as  there  always  will  to  seaside  visitors,  two  or  three 
cold,  chilly,  rainy  days,  —  days  when  the  skies  that  long 
had  not  rained  a  drop  seemed  suddenly  to  bethink  them 
selves  of  their  remissness,  and  to  pour  down  water,  not 
by  drops,  but  by  pailfuls.  The  chilly  wind  blew  and 
whistled,  the  water  dashed  along  the  ground,  and  careered 
in  foamy  rills  along  the  roadside,  and  the  bushes  bent 
beneath  the  constant  flood.  It  was  plain  that  there  was 
to  be  no  sea-bathing  on  such  a  day,  no  walks,  no  rides ; 
and  so,  shivering  and  drawing  our  blanket-shawls  close 
about  us,  we  sat  down  to  the  window  to  watch  the  storm 
outside.  The  rose-bushes  under  the  window  hung  dripping 
under  their  load  of  moisture,  each  spray  shedding  a  con 
stant  shower  on  the  spray  below  it.  On  one  of  these 
lower  sprays,  under  the  perpetual  drip,  what  should  we  see 
but  a  poor  little  humming-bird,  drawn  up  into  the  tiniest 
shivering  ball,  and  clinging  with  a  desperate  grasp  to  his 
uncomfortable  perch.  A  humming-bird  we  knew  him  to 
be  at  once,  though  his  feathers  were  so  matted  and  glued 
down  by  the  rain  that  he  looked  not  much  bigger  than  a 
honey-bee,  and  as  different  as  possible  from  the  smart,  pert, 
airy  little  character  that  we  had  so  often  seen  flirting  with 
the  flowers.  He  was  evidently  a  humming-bird  in  adver 
sity,  and  whether  he  ever  would  hum  again  looked  to  us 
exceedingly  doubtful.  Immediately,  however,  we  sent  out 
to  have  him  taken  in.  When  the  friendly  hand  seized 
him,  he  gave  a  little  faint,  watery  squeak,  evidently  think- 


50  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

ing  that  his  last  hour  was  come,  and  that  grim  Death  was 
about  to  carry  him  off  to  the  land  of  dead  birds.  What  a 
time  we  had  reviving  him,  —  holding  the  little  wet  thing 
in  the  warm  hollow  of  our  hands,  and  feeling  him  shiver 
and  palpitate  !  His  eyes  were  fast  closed  ;  his  tiny  claws, 
which  looked  slender  as  cobwebs,  were  knotted  close  to  his 
body,  and  it  was  long  before  one  could  feel  the  least  motion 
in  them.  Finally,  to  our  great  joy,  we  felt  a  brisk  little 
kick,  and  then  a  flutter  of  wings,  and  then  a  determined 
peck  of  the  beak,  which  showed  that  there  was  some  bird 
left  in  him  yet,  and  that  he  meant  at  any  rate  to  find  out 
where  he  was. 

Unclosing  our  hands  a  small  space,  out  popped  the  little 
head  with  a  pair  of  round  brilliant  eyes.  Then  we  be 
thought  ourselves  of  feeding  him,  and  forthwith  prepared 
him  a  stiff  glass  of  sugar  and  water,  a  drop  of  which  we 
held  to  his  bill.  After  turning  his  head  attentively,  like  a 
bird  who  knew  what  he  was  about  and  did  n't  mean  to  be 
chaffed,  he  briskly  put  out  a  long,  flexible  tongue  slightly 
forked  at  the  end,  and  licked  off  the  comfortable  beverage 
with  great  relish.  Immediately  he  was  pronounced  out  of 
danger  by  the  small  humane  society  which  had  undertaken 
the  charge  of  his  restoration,  and  we  began  to  cast  about  for 
getting  him  a  settled  establishment  in  our  apartment.  I 
gave  up  my  work-box  to  him  for  a  sleeping-room,  and  it 
was  medically  ordered  that  he  should  take  a  nap.  So  we 
filled  the  box  with  cotton,  and  he  was  formally  put  to  bed 
with  a  folded  cambric  handkerchief  round  his  neck,  to 
keep  him  from  beating  his  wings.  Out  of  his  white  wrap 
pings  he  looked  forth  green  and  grave  as  any  judge  with 
his  bright  round  eyes.  Like  a  bird  of  discretion,  he 
seemed  to  understand  what  was  being  done  to  him,  and 
resigned  himself  sensibly  to  go  to  sleep. 

The  box  was  covered  with  a  sheet  of  paper  perforated 
with  holes  for  purposes  of  ventilation  ;  for  even  humming- 


HUM,   THE   SON   OF  BUZ  51 

birds  have  a  little  pair  of  lungs,  and  need  their  own  little 
portion  of  air  to  fill  them,  so  that  they  may  make  bright, 
scarlet,  little  drops  of  blood  to  keep  life's  fire  burning  in 
their  tiny  bodies.  Our  bird's  lungs  manufactured  brilliant 
blood,  as  we  found  out  by  experience ;  for  in  his  first  nap 
he  contrived  to  nestle  himself  into  the  cotton  of  which  his 
bed  was  made,  and  to  get  more  of  it  than  he  needed  into 
his  long  bill.  We  pulled  it  out  as  carefully  as  we  could,  but 
there  came  out  of  his  bill  two  round,  bright,  scarlet,  little 
drops  of  blood.  Our  chief  medical  authority  looked  grave, 
pronounced  a  probable  hemorrhage  from  the  lungs,  and  gave 
him  over  at  once.  We,  less  scientific,  declared  that  we 
had  only  cut  his  little  tongue  by  drawing  out  the  filaments  of 
cotton,  and  that  he  would  do  well  enough  in  time,  —  as  it 
afterward  appeared  he  did,  —  for  from  that  day  there  was 
no  more  bleeding.  In  the  course  of  the  second  day  he 
began  to  take  short  flights  about  the  room,  though  he  seemed 
to  prefer  to  return  to  us,  —  perching  on  our  fingers  or  heads 
or  shoulders,  and  sometimes  choosing  to  sit  in  this  way  for 
half  an  hour  at  a  time.  "  These  great  giants,"  he  seemed 
to  say  to  himself,  "  are  not  bad  people  after  all ;  they  have 
a  comfortable  way  with  them ;  how  nicely  they  dried  and 
warmed  me !  Truly  a  bird  might  do  worse  than  to  live 
with  them." 

So  he  made  up  his  mind  to  form  a  fourth  in  the  little 
company  of  three  that  usually  sat  and  read,  worked,  and 
sketched  in  that  apartment,  and  we  christened  him  "  Hum, 
the  son  of  Buz."  He  became  an  individuality,  a  character, 
whose  little  doings  formed  a  part  of  every  letter,  and  some 
extracts  from  these  will  show  what  some  of  his  little  ways 
were. 

"  Hum  has  learned  to  sit  upon  my  finger,  and  eat  his 
sugar  and  water  out  of  a  teaspoon  with  most  Christian-like 
decorum.  He  has  but  one  weakness,  —  he  will  occasionally 
jump  into  the  spoon  and  sit  in  his  sugar  and  water,  and 


52  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

then  appear  to  wonder  where  it  goes  to.  His  plumage  is 
in  rather  a  drabbled  state,  owing  to  these  performances.  I 
have  sketched  him  as  he  sat  to-day  on  a  bit  of  Spiraea 
which  I  brought  in  for  him.  When  absorbed  in  reflection, 
he  sits  with  his  bill  straight  up  in  the  air,  as  I  have  drawn 

him.  Mr.  A reads  Macaulay  to  us,  and  you  should 

see  the  wise  air  with  which,  perched  on  Jenny's  thumb,  he 
cocked  his  head  now  one  side  and  then  the  other,  apparently 
listening  with  most  critical  attention.  His  confidence  in 
us  seems  unbounded ;  he  lets  us  stroke  his  head,  smooth  his 
feathers,  without  a  flutter  ;  and  is  never  better  pleased  than 
sitting,  as  he  has  been  doing  all  this  while,  on  my  hand, 
turning  up  his  bill,  and  watching  my  face  with  great  edifi 
cation. 

"  I  have  just  been  having  a  sort  of  maternal  struggle  to 
make  him  go  to  bed  in  his  box ;  but  he  evidently  considers 
himself  sufficiently  convalescent  to  make  a  stand  for  his 
rights  as  a  bird,  and  so  scratched  indignantly  out  of  his 
wrappings,  and  set  himself  up  to  roost  on  the  edge  of  the 
box,  with  an  air  worthy  of  a  turkey,  at  the  very  least. 
Having  brought  in  a  lamp,  he  has  opened  his  eyes  round 
and  wide,  and  sits  cocking  his  little  head  at  me  reflect 
ively." 

When  the  weather  cleared  away,  and  the  sun  came  out 
bright,  Hum  became  entirely  well,  and  seemed  resolved  to 
take  the  measure  of  his  new  life  with  us.  Our  windows 
were  closed  in  the  lower  part  of  the  sash  by  frames  with 
mosquito  gauze,  so  that  the  sun  and  air  found  free  admis 
sion,  and  yet  our  little  rover  could  not  pass  out.  On  the 
first  sunny  day  he  took  an  exact  survey  of  our  apartment 
from  ceiling  to  floor,  humming  about,  examining  every 
point  with  his  bill,  —  all  the  crevices,  mouldings,  each  little 
indentation  in  the  bed-post,  each  window-pane,  each  chair 
and  stand ;  and,  as  it  is  a  very  simply  furnished  seaside 
apartment,  his  scrutiny  was  soon  finished.  We  wondered, 


HUM,   THE  SON  OF  BUZ  53 

at  first,  what  this  was  all  about;  but,  on  watching  him 
more  closely,  we  found  that  he  was  actively  engaged  in 
getting  his  living,  by  darting  out  his  long  tongue  hither 
and  thither,  and  drawing  in  all  the  tiny  flies  and  insects 
which  in  summer-time  are  to  be  found  in  an  apartment. 
In  short,  we  found  that,  though  the  nectar  of  flowers  was 
his  dessert,  yet  he  had  his  roast  beef  and  mutton-chop  to 
look  after,  and  that  his  bright,  brilliant  blood  was  not  made 
out  of  a  simple  vegetarian  diet.  Very  shrewd  and  keen  he 
was,  too,  in  measuring  the  size  of  insects  before  he  attempted 
to  swallow  them.  The  smallest  class  were  whisked  off  with 
lightning  speed  ;  but  about  larger  ones  he  would  sometimes 
wheel  and  hum  for  some  minutes,  darting  hither  and  thither, 
and  surveying  them  warily ;  and  if  satisfied  that  they  could 
be  carried,  he  would  come  down  with  a  quick,  central  dart 
which  would  finish  the  unfortunate  at  a  snap.  The  larger 
flies  seemed  to  irritate  him,  —  especially  when  they  inti 
mated  to  him  that  his  plumage  was  sugary,  by  settling  on 
his  wings  and  tail ;  when  he  would  lay  about  him  spitefully, 
wielding  his  bill  like  a  sword.  A  grasshopper  that  strayed 
in,  and  was  sunning  himself  on  the  window-seat,  gave  him 
great  discomposure.  Hum  evidently  considered  him  an  in 
truder,  and  seemed  to  long  to  make  a  dive  at  him ;  but, 
with  characteristic  prudence,  confined  himself  to  threatening 
movements,  which  did  not  exactly  hit.  He  saw  evidently 
that  he  could  not  swallow  him  whole,  and  what  might 
ensue  from  trying  him  piecemeal  he  wisely  forbore  to  essay. 
Hum  had  his  own  favorite  places  and  perches.  From 
the  first  day  he  chose  for  his  nightly  roost  a  towel-line 
which  had  been  drawn  across  the  corner  over  the  wash- 
stand,  where  he  every  night  established  himself  with  one 
claw  in  the  edge  of  the  towel  and  the  other  clasping  the 
line,  and,  ruffling  up  his  feathers  till  he  looked  like  a  little 
chestnut- burr,  he  would  resign  himself  to  the  soundest  sleep. 
He  did  not  tuck  his  head  under  his  wing,  but  seemed  to 


54  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

sink  it  down  between  his  shoulders,  with  his  bill  almost 
straight  up  in  the  air.  One  evening  one  of  us,  going  to 
use  the  towel,  jarred  the  line,  and  soon  after  found  that 
Hum  had  been  thrown  from  his  perch,  and  was  hanging 
head  downward,  fast  asleep,  still  clinging  to  the  line.  An 
other  evening,  being  discomposed  by  somebody  coming  to 
the  towel-line  after  he  had  settled  himself,  he  fluttered  off; 
but  so  sleepy  that  he  had  not  discretion  to  poise  himself 
again,  and  was  found  clinging,  like  a  little  bunch  of  green 
floss  silk,  to  the  mosquito  netting  of  the  window. 

A  day  after  this  we  brought  in  a  large  green  bough,  and 
put  it  up  over  the  looking-glass.  Hum  noticed  it  before  it 
had  been  there  five  minutes,  flew  to  it,  and  began  a  regu 
lar  survey,  perching  now  here,  now  there,  till  he  seemed  to 
find  a  twig  that  exactly  suited  him  ;  and  after  that  he 
roosted  there  every  night.  Who  does  not  see  in  this 
change  all  the  signs  of  reflection  and  reason  that  are  shown 
by  us  in  thinking  over  our  circumstances,  and  trying  to 
better  them  ?  It  seemed  to  say  in  so  many  words  :  "  That 
towel-line  is  an  unsafe  place  for  a  bird ;  I  get  frightened, 
and  wake  from  bad  dreams  to  find  myself  head  downwards ; 
so  I  will  find  a  better  roost  on  this  twig.'7 

When  our  little  Jenny  one  day  put  on  a  clean  white 
muslin  gown  embellished  with  red  sprigs,  Hum  flew  towards 
her,  and  with  his  bill  made  instant  examination  of  these 
new  appearances  ;  and  one  day,  being  very  affectionately 
disposed,  perched  himself  on  her  shoulder,  and  sat  some 

time.  On  another  occasion,  while  Mr.  A was  reading, 

Hum  established  himself  on  the  top  of  his  head  just  over 
the  middle  of  his  forehead,  in  the  precise  place  where  our 
young  belles  have  lately  worn  stuffed  humming-birds,  mak 
ing  him  look  as  if  dressed  out  for  a  party.  Hum's  most 
favorite  perch  was  the  back  of  the  great  rocking-chair,  which, 
being  covered  by  a  tidy,  gave  some  hold  into  which  he 
could  catch  his  little  claws.  There  he  would  sit,  balancing 


HUM,   THE   SON  OF  BUZ  55 

himself  cleverly  if  its  occupant  chose  to  swing  to  and  fro, 
and  seeming  to  be  listening  to  the  conversation  or  reading. 

Hum  had  his  different  moods,  like  human  beings.  On 
cold,  cloudy,  gray  days  he  appeared  to  be  somewhat  de 
pressed  in  spirits,  hummed  less  about  the  room,  and  sat 
humped  up  with  his  feathers  ruined,  looking  as  much  like 
a  bird  in  a  great-coat  as  possible.  But  on  hot,  sunny  days 
every  feather  sleeked  itself  down,  and  his  little  body  looked 
natty  and  trim,  his  head  alert,  his  eyes  bright,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  come  near  him,  for  his  agility.  Then  let 
mosquitoes  and  little  flies  look  about  them  !  Hum  snapped 
them  up  without  mercy,  and  seemed  to  be  all  over  the 
ceiling  in  a  moment,  and  resisted  all  our  efforts  at  any  per 
sonal  familiarity  with  a  saucy  alacrity. 

Hum  had  his  established  institutions  in  our  room,  the 
chief  of  which  was  a  tumbler  with  a  little  sugar  and  water 
mixed  in  it,  and  a  spoon  laid  across,  out  of  which  he  helped 
himself  whenever  he  felt  in  the  mood,  —  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  tumbler,  and  dipping  his  long  bill,  and  lapping 
with  his  little  forked  tongue  like  a  kitten.  When  he 
found  his  spoon  accidentally  dry,  he  would  stoop  over  ancl 
dip  his  bill  in  the  water  in  the  tumbler,  —  which  caused 
the  prophecy  on  the  part  of  some  of  his  guardians,  that  he 
would  fall  in  some  day  and  be  drowned.  For  which  rea 
son  it  was  agreed  to  keep  only  an  inch  in  depth  of  the 
fluid  at  the  bottom  of  the  tumbler.  A  wise  precaution 
this  proved ;  for  the  next  morning  I  was  awaked,  not  by 
the  usual  hum  over  my  head,  but  by  a  sharp  little  flutter, 
and  found  Mr.  Hum  beating  his  wings  in  the  tumbler  — 
having  actually  tumbled  in  during  his  energetic  efforts  to 
get  his  morning  coffee  before  I  was  awake. 

Hum  seemed  perfectly  happy  and  satisfied  in  his  quar 
ters,  —  but  one  day,  when  the  door  was  left  open,  made  a 
dart  out,  and  so  into  the  open  sunshine.  Then,  to  be  sure, 
we  thought  we  had  lost  him.  We  took  the  mosquito  net- 


56  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

ting  out  of  all  the  windows,  and,  setting  his  tumbler  of  sugar 
and  water  in  a  conspicuous  place,  went  about  our  usual 
occupations.  We  saw  him  joyous  and  brisk  among  the 
honeysuckles  outside  the  window,  and  it  was  gravely  pre 
dicted  that  he  would  return  no  more.  But  at  dinner-time 
in  came  Hum,  familiar  as  possible,  and  sat  down  to  his 
spoon  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  instantly  we  closed  our 
windows  and  had  him  secure  once  more. 

At  another  time  I  was  going  to  ride  to  the  Atlantic 
House,  about  a  mile  from  my  boarding-place.  I  left  all 
secure,  as  I  supposed,  at  home.  While  gathering  moss  on 
the  walls  there,  I  was  surprised  by  a  little  green  humming 
bird  flying  familiarly  right  towards  my  face,  and  humming 
above  my  head.  I  called  out,  "  Here  is  Hum's  very  bro 
ther."  But,  on  returning  home,  I  saw  that  the  door  of  the 
room  was  open,  and  Hum  was  gone.  Now  certainly  we 
gave  him  up  for  lost.  I  sat  down  to  painting,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  in  flew  Hum,  and  settled  on  the  edge  of  my  tum 
bler  in  a  social,  confidential  way,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  O, 
you've  got  back  then."  After  taking  his  usual  drink  of 
sugar  and  water,  he  began  to  fly  about  the  ceiling  as  usual, 
and  we  gladly  shut  him  in. 

When  our  five  weeks  at  the  seaside  were  up,  and  it  was 
time  to  go  home,  we  had  great  questionings  what  was  to  be 
done  with  Hum.  To  get  him  home  with  us  was  our  desire, 
—  but  who  ever  heard  of  a  humming-bird  traveling  by  rail 
road  ?  Great  were  the  consultings  ;  a  little  basket  of  In 
dian  work  was  filled  up  with  cambric  handkerchiefs,  and  a 
bottle  of  sugar  and  water  provided,  and  we  started  with  him 
for  a  day's  journey.  When  we  arrived  at  night  the  first 
care  was  to  see  what  had  become  of  Hum,  who  had  not 
been  looked  at  since  we  fed  him  with  sugar  and  water  in 
Boston.  We  found  him  alive  and  well,  but  so  dead  asleep 
that  we  could  not  wake  him  to  roost ;  so  we  put  him  to 
bed  on  a  toilet  cushion,  and  arranged  his  tumbler  for  morn- 


HUM,  THE   SON  OF  BUZ  57 

ing.  The  next  day  found  him  alive  and  humming,  explor 
ing  the  room  and  pictures,  perching  now  here  and  now 
there  ;  but,  as  the  weather  was  chilly,  he  sat  for  the  most 
part  of  the  time  in  a  humped-up  state  on  the  tip  of  a  pair 
of  stag's  horns.  We  moved  him  to  a  more  sunny  apart 
ment  ;  but,  alas  !  the  equinoctial  storm  came  on,  and  there 
was  no  sun  to  be  had  for  days.  Hum  was  blue ;  the  pleas 
ant  seaside  days  were  over ;  his  room  was  lonely,  the  pleas 
ant  three  that  had  enlivened  the  apartment  at  Rye  no  longer 
came  in  and  out ;  evidently  he  was  lonesome,  and  gave  way 
to  depression.  One  chilly  morning  he  managed  again  to 
fall  into  his  tumbler,  and  wet  himself  through ;  and  not 
withstanding  warm  bathings  and  tender  nursings,  the  poor 
little  fellow  seemed  to  get  diphtheria,  or  something  quite  as 
bad  for  humming-birds. 

We  carried  him  to  a  neighboring  sunny  parlor,  where  ivy 
embowers  all  the  walls,  and  the  sun  lies  all  day.  There  he 
revived  a  little,  danced  up  and  down,  perched  on  a  green 
spray  that  was  wreathed  across  the  breast  of  a  Psyche,  and 
looked  then  like  a  little  flitting  soul  returning  to  its  rest. 
Towards  evening  he  drooped  ;  and,  having  been  nursed  and 
warmed  and  cared  for,  he  was  put  to  sleep  on  a  green  twig 
laid  on  the  piano.  In  that  sleep  the  little  head  drooped 
—  nodded  —  fell ;  and  little  Hum  went  where  other  bright 
dreams  go,  —  to  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter. 


OUE  COUNTEY  NEIGHBORS 

WE  have  just  built  our  house  in  rather  an  out-of-the- 
way  place,  —  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  and  under  the  shade 
of  a  patch  of  woods  which  is  a  veritable  remain  of  quite  an 
ancient  forest.  The  checkerberry  and  partridge-plum,  with 
their  glossy  green  leaves  and  scarlet  berries,  still  carpet  the 
ground  under  its  deep  shadows ;  and  prince's-pine  and 
other  kindred  evergreens  declare  its  native  wildness,  —  for 
these  are  children  of  the  wild  woods,  that  never  come  after 
plough  and  harrow  has  once  broken  a  soil. 

When  we  tried  to  look  out  the  spot  for  our  house,  we 
had  to  get  a  surveyor  to  go  before  us  and  cut  a  path 
through  the  dense  underbrush  that  was  laced  together  in  a 
general  network  of  boughs  and  leaves,  and  grew  so  high  as 
to  overtop  our  heads.  Where  the  house  stands,  four  or  five 
great  old  oaks  and  chestnuts  had  to  be  cut  away  to  let  it  in  ; 
and  now  it  stands  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  the  edges  of 
which  are  still  overhung  with  old  forest-trees,  chestnuts  and 
oaks,  which  look  at  themselves  in  the  glassy  stream. 

A  little  knoll  near  the  house  was  chosen  for  a  garden 
spot ;  a  dense,  dark  mass  of  trees  above,  of  bushes  in  mid 
air,  and  of  all  sorts  of  ferns  and  wild-flowers  and  creeping 
vines  on  the  ground.  All  these  had  to  be  cleared  out,  and 
a  dozen  great  trees  cut  down  and  dragged  off  to  a  neighbor 
ing  saw-mill,  there  to  be  transformed  into  boards  to  finish 
off  our  house.  Then,  fetching  a  great  machine,  such  as 
might  be  used  to  pull  a  giant's  teeth,  with  ropes,  pulleys, 
oxen,  and  men,  and  might  and  main,  we  pulled  out  the 
stumps,  with  their  great  prongs  and  their  network  of  roots 


OUK  COUNTRY  NEIGHBOES  59 

and  fibres  ;  and  then,  alas  !  we  had  to  begin  with  all  the 
pretty,  wild,  lovely  bushes,  and  the  checkerberries  and  ferns 
and  wild  blackberries  and  huckleberry-bushes,  and  dig  them 
up  remorselessly,  that  we  might  plant  our  corn  and  squashes. 
And  so  we  got  a  house  and  a  garden  right  out  of  the  heart 
of  our  piece  of  wild  wood,  about  a  mile  from  the  city  of 
H . 

Well,  then,  people  said  it  was  a  lonely  place,  and  far 
from  neighbors,  —  by  which  they  meant  that  it  was  a  good 
way  for  them  to  come  to  see  us.  But  we  soon  found  that 
whoever  goes  into  the  woods  to  live  finds  neighbors  of  a 
new  kind,  and  some  to  whom  it  is  rather  hard  to  become 
accustomed. 

For  instance,  on  a  fine  day  early  in  April,  as  we  were 
crossing  over  to  superintend  the  building  of  our  house,  we 
were  startled  by  a  striped  snake  with  his  little  bright  eyes, 
raising  himself  to  look  at  us,  and  putting  out  his  red  forked 
tongue.  Now  there  is  no  more  harm  in  these  little  garden- 
snakes  than  there  is  in  a  robin  or  a  squirrel ;  they  are  poor 
little,  peaceable,  timid  creatures,  which  could  not  do  any 
harm  if  they  would  ;  but  the  prejudices  of  society  are  so 
strong  against  them,  that  one  does  not  like  to  cultivate  too 
much  intimacy  with  them.  So  we  tried  to  turn  out  of  our 
path  into  a  tangle  of  bushes  ;  and  there,  instead  of  one,  we 
found  four  snakes.  We  turned  on  the  other  side,  and  there 
were  two  more.  In  short,  everywhere  we  looked,  the  dry 
leaves  were  rustling  and  coiling  with  them  ;  and  we  were 
in  despair.  In  vain  we  said  that  they  were  harmless  as 
kittens,  and  tried  to  persuade  ourselves  that  their  little 
bright  eyes  were  pretty,  and  that  their  serpentine  move 
ments  were  in  the  exact  line  of  beauty  ;  for  the  life  of  us, 
we  could  not  help  remembering  their  family  name  and  con 
nections  ;  we  thought  of  those  disagreeable  gentlemen,  the 
anacondas,  the  rattlesnakes,  and  the  copperheads,  and  all  of 
that  bad  line,  immediate  family  friends  of  the  old  serpent 


60  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  all  the  mischief  that  is  done 
in  this  world.  So  we  were  quite  apprehensive  when  we 
saw  how  our  new  neighborhood  was  infested  by  them,  until 
a  neighbor  calmed  our  fears  by  telling  us  that  snakes  always 
crawled  out  of  their  holes  to  sun  themselves  in  the  spring, 
and  that  in  a  day  or  two  they  would  all  be  gone. 

So  it  proved.  It  was  evident  they  were  all  out  merely 
to  do  their  spring  shopping,  or  something  that  serves  with 
them  the  same  purpose  that  spring  shopping  does  with  us ; 
and  where  they  went  afterwards  we  do  not  know.  People 
speak  of  snakes'  holes,  and  we  have  seen  them  disappearing 
into  such  subterranean  chambers  ;  but  we  never  opened  one 
to  see  what  sort  of  underground  housekeeping  went  on 
there.  After  the  first  few  days  of  spring,  a  snake  was  a 
rare  visitor,  though  now  and  then  one  appeared. 

One  was  discovered  taking  his  noontide  repast  one  day 
in  a  manner  which  excited  much  prejudice.  He  was,  in 
fact,  regaling  himself  by  sucking  down  into  his  maw  a  small 
frog,  which  he  had  begun  to  swallow  at  the  toes,  and  had 
drawn  about  half  down.  The  frog,  it  must  be  confessed, 
seemed  to  view  this  arrangement  with  great  indifference, 
making  no  struggle,  and  sitting  solemnly,  with  his  great 
unwinking  eyes,  to  be  sucked  in  at  the  leisure  of  his  cap 
tor.  There  was  immense  sympathy,  however,  excited  for 
him  in  the  family  circle  ;  and  it  was  voted  that  a  snake 
which  indulged  in  such  very  disagreeable  modes  of  eating  his 
dinner  was  not  to  be  tolerated  in  our  vicinity.  So  I  have 
reason  to  believe  that  that  was  his  last  meal. 

Another  of  our  wild  woodland  neighbors  made  us  some 
trouble.  It  was  no  other  than  a  veritable  woodchuck, 
whose  hole  we  had  often  wondered  at  when  we  were 
scrambling  through  the  underbrush  after  spring  flowers. 
The  hole  was  about  the  size  of  a  peck-measure,  and  had 
two  openings  about  six  feet  apart.  The  occupant  was  a 
gentleman  we  never  had  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  ;  but 


OUR  COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  61 

we  soon  learned  his  existence  from  his  ravages  in  our 
garden.  He  had  a  taste,  it  appears,  for  the  very  kind  of 
things  we  wanted  to  eat  ourselves,  and  helped  himself 
without  asking.  We  had  a  row  of  fine,  crisp  heads  of 
lettuce,  which  were  the  pride  of  our  gardening,  and  out  of 
which  he  would  from  day  to  day  select  for  his  table  just 
the  plants  we  had  marked  for  ours.  He  also  nibbled  our 
young  beans ;  and  so  at  last  we  were  reluctantly  obliged 
to  let  John  Gardiner  set  a  trap  for  him.  Poor  old 
simple-minded  hermit,  he  was  too  artless  for  this  world  ! 
He  was  caught  at  the  very  first  snap,  and  found  dead  in 
the  trap,  —  the  agitation  and  distress  having  broken  his 
poor  woodland  heart,  and  killed  him.  We  were  grieved  to 
the  very  soul  when  the  poor,  fat  old  fellow  was  dragged 
out,  with  his  useless  paws  standing  up  stiff  and  imploring. 
As  it  was,  he  was  given  to  Denis,  our  pig,  which,  without 
a  single  scruple  of  delicacy,  ate  him  up  as  thoroughly  as  he 
ate  up  the  lettuce. 

This  business  of  eating,  it  appears,  must  go  on  all  through 
creation.  We  eat  ducks,  turkeys,  and  chickens,  though  we 
don't  swallow  them  whole,  feathers  and  all.  Our  four-footed 
friends,  less  civilized,  take  things  with  more  directness  and 
simplicity,  and  chew  each  other  up  without  ceremony,  or 
swallow  each  other  alive.  Of  these  unceremonious  habits 
we  had  other  instances. 

Our  house  had  a  central  court  on  the  southern  side,  into 
which  looked  the  library,  dining-room,  and  front  hall,  as 
well  as  several  of  the  upper  chambers.  It  was  designed  to 
be  closed  in  with  glass,  to  serve  as  a  conservatory  in  win 
ter  ;  and  meanwhile  we  had  filled  it  with  splendid  plumy 
ferns,  taken  up  out  of  the  neighboring  wood.  In  the  centre 
was  a  fountain  surrounded  by  stones,  shells,  mosses,  and 
various  water-plants.  We  had  bought  three  little  goldfish 
to  swim  in  our  basin  ;  and  the  spray  of  it,  as  it  rose  in  the 
air  and  rippled  back  into  the  water,  was  the  pleasantest 


62  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

possible  sound  of  a  hot  day.  We  used  to  lie  on  the  sofa 
in  the  hall,  and  look  into  the  court,  and  fancy  we  saw 
some  scene  of  fairy-land,  and  water-sprites  coming  up  from 
the  fountain.  Suddenly  a  new-comer  presented  himself,  — 
no  other  than  an  immense  bullfrog,  that  had  hopped  up 
from  the  neighboring  river,  apparently  with  a  view  to 
making  a  permanent  settlement  in  and  about  our  fountain. 
He  was  to  be  seen,  often  for  hours,  sitting  reflectively  on 
the  edge  of  it,  beneath  the  broad  shadow  of  the  calla-leaves. 
When  sometimes  missed  thence,  he  would  be  found  under 
the  ample  shield  of  a  great  bignonia,  whose  striped  leaves 
grew  hard  by. 

The  family  were  prejudiced  against  him.  What  did  he 
want  there  ?  It  was  surely  some  sinister  motive  impelled 
him.  He  was  probably  watching  for  an  opportunity  to 
gobble  up  the  goldfish.  We  took  his  part,  however,  and 
strenuously  defended  his  moral  character,  and  patronized 
him  in  all  ways.  We  gave  him  the  name  of  Unke,  and 
maintained  that  he  was  a  well-conducted,  philosophical  old 
water-sprite,  who  showed  his  good  taste  in  wanting  to  take 
up  his  abode  in  our  conservatory.  We  even  defended  his 
personal  appearance,  praised  the  invisible-green  coat  which 
he  wore  on  his  back,  and  his  gray  vest,  and  solemn  gold 
spectacles  ;  and  though  he  always  felt  remarkably  slimy 
when  we  touched  him,  yet,  as  he  would  sit  still,  and  allow 
us  to  stroke  his  head  and  pat  his  back,  we  concluded  his 
social  feelings  might  be  warm,  notwithstanding  a  cold  ex 
terior.  Who  knew,  after  all,  but  he  might  be  a  beautiful 
young  prince,  enchanted  there  till  the  princess  should  come 
to  drop  the  golden  ball  into  the  fountain,  and  so  give  him 
a  chance  to  marry  her,  and  turn  into  a  man  again  ?  Such 
things,  we  are  credibly  informed,  are  matters  of  frequent 
occurrence  in  Germany.  Why  not  here  ? 

By  and  by  there  came  to  our  fountain  another  visitor,  — 
a  frisky,  green  young  frog  of  the  identical  kind  spoken  of 
by  the  poet :  — 


OUR  COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  68 

"  There  was  a  frog  lived  in  a  well, 
Rig  dum  pull}r  metakimo." 

This  thoughtless,  dapper  individual,  with  his  bright  green 
coat,  his  faultless  white  vest,  and  sea-green  tights,  became 
rather  the  popular  favorite.  He  seemed  just  rakish  and 
gallant  enough  to  fulfil  the  conditions  of  the  song  :  — 

"  The  frog  he  would  a  courting  ride, 
With  sword  and  pistol  by  his  side." 

This  lively  young  fellow,  whom  we  shall  call  Cri-Cri,  like 
other  frisky  and  gay  young  people,  carried  the  day  quite  over 
the  head  of  the  solemn  old  philosopher  under  the  calla- 
leaves.  At  night,  when  all  was  still,  he  would  trill  a  joyous 
little  note  in  his  throat,  while  old  Unke  would  answer  only 
with  a  cracked  guttural  more  singular  than  agreeable ;  and 
to  all  outward  appearance  the  two  were  as  good  friends  as 
their  different  natures  would  allow. 

One  day,  however,  the  conservatory  became  a  scene  of  a 
tragedy  of  the  deepest  dye.  We  were  summoned  below  by 
shrieks  and  howls  of  horror.  "  Do  pray  come  down  and 
see  what  this  vile,  nasty,  horrid  old  frog  has  been  doing  !  " 
Down  we  came ;  and  there  sat  our  virtuous  old  philosopher, 
with  his  poor  little  brother's  hind  legs  still  sticking  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  mouth,  as  if  he  were  smoking  them  for 
a  cigar,  all  helplessly  palpitating  as  they  were.  In  fact,  our 
solemn  old  friend  had  done  what  many  a  solemn  hypocrite 
before  has  done,  —  swallowed  his  poor  brother,  neck  and 
crop,  —  and  sat  there  with  the  most  brazen  indifference, 
looking  as  if  he  had  done  the  most  proper  and  virtuous 
thing  in  the  world. 

Immediately  he  was  marched  out  of  the  conservatory  at 
the  point  of  the  walking-stick,  and  made  to  hop  down  into 
the  river,  into  whose  waters  he  splashed  ;  and  we  saw  him 
no  more.  We  regret  to  say  that  the  popular  indignation 
was  so  precipitate  in  its  results  ;  otherwise  the  special  artist 
who  sketched  Hum,  the  son  of  Buz,  would  have  made  a 


64  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

sketch  of  the  old  villain,  as  he  sat  with  his  luckless  vic 
tim's  hind  legs  projecting  from  his  solemn  mouth.  With 
all  his  moral  faults,  he  was  a  good  sitter,  and  would  prob 
ably  have  sat  immovable  any  length  of  time  that  could  be 
desired. 

Of  other  woodland  neighbors  there  were  some  which  we 
saw  occasionally.  The  shores  of  the  river  were  lined  here 
and  there  with  the  holes  of  the  muskrats ;  and,  in  rowing 
by  their  settlements,  we  were  sometimes  strongly  reminded 
of  them  by  the  overpowering  odor  of  the  perfume  from 
which  they  get  their  name.  There  were  also  owls,  whose 
nests  were  high  up  in  some  of  the  old  chestnut-trees.  Often 
in  the  lonely  hours  of  the  night  we  could  hear  them  gib 
bering  with  a  sort  of  wild,  hollow  laugh  among  the  distant 
trees.  But  one  tenant  of  the  woods  made  us  some  trouble 
in  the  autumn.  It  was  a  little  flying-squirrel,  who  took  to 
making  excursions  into  our  house  in  the  night  season,  com 
ing  down  chimney  into  the  chambers,  rustling  about  among 
the  clothes,  cracking  nuts  or  nibbling  at  any  morsels  of 
anything  that  suited  his  fancy.  For  a  long  time  the  in 
mates  of  the  rooms  were  awakened  in  the  night  by  myste 
rious  noises,  thumps,  and  rappings,  and  so  lighted  candles, 
and  searched  in  vain  to  find  whence  they  came  ;  for  the 
moment  any  movement  was  made,  the  rogue  whipped  up 
chimney,  and  left  us  a  prey  to  the  most  mysterious  alarms. 
What  could  it  be  ? 

But  one  night  our  fine  gentleman  bounced  in  at  the 
window  of  another  room,  which  had  no  fireplace ;  and  the 
fair  occupant,  rising  in  the  night,  shut  the  window,  with 
out  suspecting  that  she  had  cut  off  the  retreat  of  any  of 
her  woodland  neighbors.  The  next  morning  she  was  star 
tled  by  what  she  thought  a  gray  rat  running  past  her  bed. 
She  rose  to  pursue  him,  when  he  ran  up  the  wall,  and 
clung  against  the  plastering,  showing  himself  very  plainly 
a  gray  flying-squirrel,  with  large,  soft  eyes,  and  wings  which 


OUR   COUNTRY   NEIGHBORS  65 

consisted  of  a  membrane  uniting  the  fore  paws  to  the  hind 
ones,  like  those  of  a  bat.  He  was  chased  into  the  conser 
vatory,  and,  a  window  being  opened,  out  he  flew  upon  the 
ground,  and  made  away  for  his  native  woods,  and  thus  put 
an  end  to  many  fears  as  to  the  nature  of  our  nocturnal 
rappings. 

So  you  see  how  many  neighbors  we  found  by  living  in 
the  woods,  and,  after  all,  no  worse  ones  than  are  found  in 
the  great  world. 


OUR  DOGS 


WE  who  live  in  Cunopolis  are  a  dog-loving  family. 
We  have  a  warm  side  towards  everything  that  goes  upon 
four  paws,  and  the  consequence  has  been  that,  taking  things 
first  and  last,  we  have  been  always  kept  in  confusion  and 
under  the  paw,  so  to  speak,  of  some  honest  four-footed 
tyrant,  who  would  go  beyond  his  privilege  and  overrun 
the  whole  house.  Years  ago  this  begun,  when  our  house 
hold  consisted  of  a  papa,  a  mamma,  and  three  or  four  noisy 
boys  and  girls,  and  a  kind  Miss  Anna  who  acted  as  a  sec 
ond  mamma  to  the  whole.  There  was  also  one  more  of  our 
number,  the  youngest,  dear  little  bright-eyed  Charley,  who 
was  king  over  us  all,  and  rode  in  a  wicker  wagon  for  a 
chariot,  and  had  a  nice  little  nurse  devoted  to  him ;  and  it 
was  through  him  that  our  first  dog  came. 

One  day  Charley's  nurse  took  him  quite  a  way  to  a 
neighbor's  house  to  spend  the  afternoon ;  and,  he  being 
well  amused,  they  stayed  till  after  nightfall.  The  kind  old 
lady  of  the  mansion  was  concerned  that  the  little  prince  in 
his  little  coach,  with  his  little  maid,  had  to  travel  so  far  in 
the  twilight  shadows,  and  so  she  called  a  big  dog  named 
Carlo,  and  gave  the  establishment  into  his  charge. 

Carlo  was  a  great,  tawny-yellow  mastiff",  as  big  as  a  calf, 
with  great,  clear,  honest  eyes,  and  stiff,  wiry  hair ;  and  the 
good  lady  called  him  to  the  side  of  the  little  wagon,  and 
said,  "  Now,  Carlo,  you  must  take  good  care  of  Charley, 
and  you  mustn't  let  anything  hurt  him." 


OUR  DOGS  67 

Carlo  wagged  his  tail  in  promise  of  protection,  and  away 
he  trotted,  home  with  the  wicker  wagon  ;  and  when  he 
arrived,  he  was  received  with  so  much  applause  by  four 
little  folks,  who  dearly  loved  the  very  sight  of  a  dog,  he 
was  so  stroked  and  petted  and  caressed,  that  he  concluded 
that  he  liked  the  place  better  than  the  home  he  came  from, 
where  were  only  very  grave  elderly  people.  He  tarried 
all  night,  and  slept  at  the  foot  of  the  boys'  bed,  who  could 
hardly  go  to  sleep  for  the  things  they  found  to  say  to  him, 
and  who  were  awake  ever  so  early  in  the  morning,  stroking 
his  rough,  tawny  back,  and  hugging  him. 

At  his  own  home  Carlo  had  a  kennel  all  to  himself, 
where  he  was  expected  to  live  quite  alone,  and  do  duty  by 
watching  and  guarding  the  place.  Nobody  petted  him,  or 
stroked  his  rough  hide,  or  said,  "  Poor  dog  !  "  to  him,  and 
so  it  appears  he  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  not  appreciated, 
and  liked  our  warm-hearted  little  folks,  who  told  him 
stories,  gave  him  half  of  their  own  supper,  and  took  him  to 
bed  with  them  sociably.  Carlo  was  a  dog  that  had  a  mind 
of  his  own,  though  he  could  n't  say  much  about  it,  and  in 
his  dog  fashion  proclaimed  his  likes  and  dislikes  quite  as 
strongly  as  if  he  could  speak.  When  the  time  came  for 
taking  him  home,  he  growled  and  showed  his  teeth  danger 
ously  at  the  man  who  was  sent  for  him,  and  it  was  neces 
sary  to  drag  him  back  by  force,  and  tie  him  into  his  ken 
nel.  However,  he  soon  settled  that  matter  by  gnawing  the 
rope  in  two  and  padding  down  again  and  appearing  among 
his  little  friends,  quite  to  their  delight.  Two  or  three 
times  was  he  taken  back  and  tied  or  chained ;  but  he 
howled  so  dismally,  and  snapped  at  people  in  such  a  mis 
anthropic  manner,  that  finally  the  kind  old  lady  thought  it 
better  to  have  no  dog  at  all  than  a  dog  soured  by  blighted 
affection.  So  she  loosed  his  rope,  and  said,  "There, 
Carlo,  go  and  stay  where  you  like  ;  "  and  so  Carlo  came 
to  us,  and  a  joy  and  delight  was  he  to  all  in  the  house. 


68  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

He  loved  one  and  all ;  but  he  declared  himself  as  more 
than  all  the  slave  and  property  of  our  Prince  Charley. 
He  would  lie  on  the  floor  as  still  as  a  door-mat,  and  let 
him  pull  his  hair,  and  roll  over  him,  and  examine  his  eyes 
with  his  little  fat  fingers  ;  and  Carlo  submitted  to  all  these 
personal  freedoms  with  as  good  an  understanding  as  papa 
himself.  When  Charley  slept,  Carlo  stretched  himself 
along  under  the  crib ;  rising  now  and  then,  and  standing 
with  his  broad  breast  on  a  level  with  the  slats  of  the  crib, 
he  would  look  down  upon  him  with  an  air  of  grave  pro 
tection.  He  also  took  a  great  fancy  to  papa,  and  would 
sometimes  pat  with  tiptoe  care  into  his  study,  and  sit 
quietly  down  by  him  when  he  was  busy  over  his  Greek  or 
Latin  books,  waiting  for  a  word  or  two  of  praise  or  encour 
agement.  If  none  came,  he  would  lay  his  rough  horny 
paw  on  his  knee,  and  look  in  his  face  with  such  an  honest, 
imploring  expression,  that  the  professor  was  forced  to  break 
off  to  say,  "  Why,  Carlo,  you  poor,  good,  honest  fellow,  — 
did  he  want  to  be  talked  to  ?  —  so  he  did.  Well,  he  shall 
be  talked  to  ;  —  he  7s  a  nice,  good  dog ;  "  —  and  during  all 
these  praises  Carlo's  transports  and  the  thumps  of  his  rough 
tail  are  not  to  be  described. 

He  had  great,  honest,  yellowish-brown  eyes,  —  not  re 
markable  for  their  beauty,  but  which  used  to  look  as  if  he 
longed  to  speak,  and  he  seemed  to  have  a  yearning  for 
praise  and  love  and  caresses  that  even  all  our  attentions 
could  scarcely  satisfy.  His  master  would  say  to  him  some 
times,  "  Carlo,  you  poor,  good,  homely  dog,  —  how  loving 
you  are  !  " 

Carlo  was  a  full-blooded  mastiff,  and  his  beauty,  if  he 
had  any,  consisted  in  his  having  all  the  good  points  of  his 
race.  He  was  a  dog  of  blood,  come  of  real  old  mastiff 
lineage ;  his  stiff,  wiry  hair,  his  big,  rough  paws,  and  great 
brawny  chest,  were  all  made  for  strength  rather  than 
beauty ;  but  for  all  that  he  was  a  dog  of  tender  sentiments. 


OUR  DOGS  69 

Yet,  if  any  one  intruded  on  his  rights  and  dignities,  Carlo 
showed  that  he  had  hot  blood  in  him ;  his  lips  would  go 
back,  and  show  a  glistening  row  of  ivories  that  one  would 
not  like  to  encounter,  and  if  any  trenched  on  his  privileges, 
he  would  give  a  deep  warning  growl,  —  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  I  am  your  slave  for  love,  but  you  must  treat  me  well,  or 
I  shall  be  dangerous.'7  A  blow  he  would  not  bear  from 
any  one :  the  fire  would  flash  from  his  great  yellow  eyes, 
and  he  would  snap  like  a  rifle  ;  —  yet  he  would  let  his 
own  Prince  Charley  pound  on  his  ribs  with  both  baby  fists, 
and  pull  his  tail  till  he  yelped,  without  even  a  show  of 
resistance. 

At  last  came  a  time  when  the  merry  voice  of  little  Char 
ley  was  heard  no  more,  and  his  little  feet  no  more  pattered 
through  the  halls ;  he  lay  pale  and  silent  in  his  little  crib, 
with  his  dear  life  ebbing  away,  and  no  one  knew  how  to 
stop  its  going.  Poor  old  Carlo  lay  under  the  crib  when 
they  would  let  him,  sometimes  rising  up  to  look  in  with  an 
earnest,  sorrowful  face ;  and  sometimes  he  would  stretch 
himself  out  in  the  entry  before  the  door  of  little  Charley's 
room,  watching  with  his  great  open  eyes  lest  the  thief 
should  come  in  the  night  to  steal  away  our  treasure. 

But  one  morning  when  the  children  woke,  one  little  soul 
had  gone  in  the  night,  —  gone  upward  to  the  angels  ;  and 
then  the  cold,  pale  little  form  that  used  to  be  the  life  of 
the  house  was  laid  away  tenderly  in  the  yard  of  a  neighbor 
ing  church. 

Poor  old  Carlo  would  pit-pat  silently  about  the  house  in 
those  days  of  grief,  looking  first  into  one  face  and  then 
another,  but  no  one  could  tell  him  where  his  gay  little 
master  had  gone.  The  other  children  had  hid  the  baby- 
wagon  away  in  the  lumber-room  lest  their  mamma  should 
see  it ;  and  so  passed  a  week  or  two,  and  Carlo  saw  no 
trace  of  Charley  about  the  house.  But  then  a  lady  in  the 


70  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

neighborhood,  who  had  a  sick  baby,  sent  to  borrow  the 
wicker  wagon,  and  it  was  taken  from  its  hiding-place  to  go 
to  her.  Carlo  came  to  the  door  just  as  it  was  being  drawn 
out  of  the  gate  into  the  street.  Immediately  he  sprung, 
cleared  the  fence  with  a  great  bound,  and  ran  after  it.  He 
overtook  it,  and  poked  his  nose  between  the  curtains,  — 
there  was  no  one  there.  Immediately  he  turned  away,  and 
padded  dejectedly  home.  What  words  could  have  spoken 
plainer  of  love  and  memory  than  this  one  action  ? 

Carlo  lived  with  us  a  year  after  this,  when  a  time  came 
for  the  whole  family  hive  to  be  taken  up  and  moved  away 
from  the  flowery  banks  of  the  Ohio  to  the  piny  shores  of 
Maine.  All  our  household  goods  were  being  uprooted,  dis 
ordered,  packed,  and  sold;  and  the  question  daily  arose, 
"  What  shall  we  do  with  Carlo  ?  "  There  was  hard  begging 
on  the  part  of  the  boys  that  he  might  go  with  them,  and 
one  even  volunteered  to  travel  all  the  way  in  baggage  cars 
to  keep  Carlo  company.  But  papa  said  no,  and  so  it  was 
decided  to  send  Carlo  up  the  river  to  the  home  of  a  very 
genial  lady  who  had  visited  in  our  family,  and  who  appre 
ciated  his  parts,  and  offered  him  a  home  in  hers. 

The  matter  was  anxiously  talked  over  one  day  in  the 
family  circle  while  Carlo  lay  under  the  table,  and  it  was 
agreed  that  papa  and  Willie  should  take  him  to  the  steam 
boat  landing  the  next  morning.  But  the  next  morning  Mr. 
Carlo  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  In  vain  was  he  called, 
from  garret  to  cellar ;  nor  was  it  till  papa  and  Willie  had 
gone  to  the  city  that  he  came  out  of  his  hiding-place.  For 
two  or  three  days  it  was  impossible  to  catch  him,  but  after 
a  while  his  suspicions  were  laid,  and  we  learned  not  to  speak 
out  our  plans  in  his  presence,  and  so  the  transfer  at  last  was 
prosperously  effected. 

We  heard  from  him  once  in  his  new  home,  as  being  a 
highly  appreciated  member  of  society,  and  adorning  his  new 


OUR  DOGS  71 

situation  with  all  sorts  of  dog  virtues,  while  we  wended  our 
ways  to  the  coast  of  Maine.  But  our  hearts  were  sore  for 
want  of  him ;  the  family  circle  seemed  incomplete,  until  a 
new  favorite  appeared  to  take  his  place,  of  which  I  shall 
tell  you  next  month. 


A  neighbor,  blessed  with  an  extensive  litter  of  Newfound 
land  pups,  commenced  one  chapter  in  our  family  history  by 
giving  us  a  puppy,  brisk,  funny,  and  lively  enough,  who 
was  received  in  our  house  with  acclamations  of  joy,  and 
christened  "Rover."  An  auspicious  name  we  all  thought, 
for  his  four  or  five  human  playfellows  were  all  rovers,  — 
rovers  in  the  woods,  rovers  by  the  banks  of  a  neighboring 
patch  of  water,  where  they  dashed  and  splashed,  made  rafts, 
inaugurated  boats,  and  lived  among  the  cat-tails  and  sweet 
flags  as  familiarly  as  so  many  musk-rats.  Rovers  also  they 
were,  every  few  days,  down  to  the  shores  of  the  great  sea, 
where  they  caught  fish,  rowed  boats,  dug  clams,  —  both 
girls  and  boys,  —  and  one  sex  quite  as  handily  as  the  other. 
Rover  came  into  such  a  lively  circle  quite  as  one  of  them, 
and  from  the  very  first  seemed  to  regard  himself  as  part  and 
parcel  of  all  that  was  going  on,  in  doors  or  out.  But  his 
exuberant  spirits  at  times  brought  him  into  sad  scrapes. 
His  vivacity  was  such  as  to  amount  to  decided  insanity,  — 
and  mamma  and  Miss  Anna  and  papa  had  many  grave  looks 
over  his  capers.  Once  he  actually  tore  off"  the  leg  of  a  new 
pair  of  trousers  that  Johnny  had  just  donned,  and  came 
racing  home  with  it  in  his  mouth,  with  its  bare-legged  little 
owner  behind,  screaming  threats  and  maledictions  on  the 
robber.  What  a  commotion  !  The  new  trousers  had  just 
been  painfully  finished,  in  those  days  when  sewing  was  sew 
ing  and  not  a  mere  jig  on  a  sewing-machine  ;  but  Rover,  so 
far  from  being  abashed  or  ashamed,  displayed  an  impish 


72  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

glee  in  his  performance,  bounding  and  leaping  hither  and 
thither  with  his  trophy  in  his  mouth,  now  growling  and 
mangling  it,  and  shaking  it  at  us  in  elfish  triumph  as  we 
chased  him  hither  and  thither,  —  over  the  wood-pile,  into 
the  woodhouse,  through  the  barn,  out  of  the  stable  door,  — 
vowing  all  sorts  of  dreadful  punishments  when  we  caught 
him.  But  we  might  well  say  that,  for  the  little  wretch 
would  never  be  caught ;  after  one  of  his  tricks  he  always 
managed  to  keep  himself  out  of  arm's  length  till  the  thing  was 
a  little  blown  over,  when  in  he  would  come,  airy  as  ever, 
and  wagging  his  little  pudgy  puppy  tail  with  an  air  of  the 
most  perfect  assurance  in  the  world. 

There  is  no  saying  what  youthful  errors  were  pardoned 
to  him.  Once  he  ate  a  hole  in  the  bed-quilt  as  his  night's 
employment,  when  one  of  the  boys  had  surreptitiously  got 
him  into  bed  with  them  ;  he  nibbled  and  variously  mal 
treated  sundry  sheets  ;  and  once  actually  tore  up  and  chewed 
off  a  corner  of  the  bedroom  carpet,  to  stay  his  stomach  dur 
ing  the  night  season.  What  he  did  it  for,  no  mortal 
knows ;  certainly  it  could  not  be  because  he  was  hungry, 
for  there  were  five  little  pairs  of  hands  incessantly  feeding 
him  from  morning  till  night.  Beside  which,  he  had  a 
boundless  appetite  for  shoes,  which  he  mumbled,  and  shook, 
and  tore,  and  ruined,  greatly  to  the  vexation  of  their  right 
ful  owners,  —  rushing  in  and  carrying  them  from  the  bed 
sides  in  the  night-watches,  racing  off  with  them  to  any  out- 
of-the-way  corner  that  hit  his  fancy,  and  leaving  them  when 
he  was  tired  of  the  fun.  So  there  is  no  telling  of  the  dis 
grace  into  which  he  brought  his  little  masters  and  mistresses, 
and  the  tears  and  threats  and  scoldings  which  were  all 
wasted  on  him,  as  he  would  stand  quite  at  his  ease,  lolling 
out  his  red,  saucy  tongue,  and  never  deigning  to  tell  what 
he  had  done  with  his  spoils. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  sins,  Rover  grew  up  to  dog- 
hood,  the  pride  and  pet  of  the  family,  —  and  in  truth  a 
very  handsome  dog  he  was. 


OUR  DOGS  73 

It  is  quite  evident  from  his  looks  that  his  Newfoundland 
blood  had  been  mingled  with  that  of  some  other  races  ;  for 
he  never  attained  the  full  size  of  that  race,  and  his  points 
in  some  respects  resembled  those  of  a  good  setter.  He  was 
grizzled  black  and  white,  and  spotted  on  the  sides  in  little 
inky  drops  about  the  size  of  a  three-cent  piece  ;  his  hair 
was  long  and  silky,  his  ears  beautifully  fringed,  and  his  tail 
long  and  feathery.  His  eyes  were  bright,  soft,  and  full  of 
expression,  and  a  jollier,  livelier,  more  loving  creature 
never  wore  dog-skin.  To  be  sure,  his  hunting  blood  some 
times  brought  us  and  him  into  scrapes.  A  neighbor  now 
and  then  would  call  with  a  bill  for  ducks,  chickens,  or 
young  turkeys,  which  Rover  had  killed.  The  last  time 
this  occurred  it  was  decided  that  something  must  be  done ; 
so  Hover  was  shut  up  a  whole  day  in  a  cold  lumber-room, 
with  the  murdered  duck  tied  round  his  neck.  Poor  fellow  ! 
how  dejected  and  ashamed  he  looked,  and  how  grateful  he 
was  when  his  little  friends  would  steal  in  to  sit  with  him, 
and  "  poor "  him  in  his  disgrace  !  The  punishment  so 
improved  his  principles  that  he  let  poultry  alone  from  that 
time,  except  now  and  then,  when  he  would  snap  up  a  young 
chick  or  turkey,  in  pure  absence  of  mind,  before  he  really 
knew  what  he  was  about.  We  had  great  dread  lest  he 
should  take  to  killing  sheep,  of  which  there  were  many 
flocks  in  the  neighborhood.  A  dog  which  once  kills  sheep 
is  a  doomed  beast,  —  as  much  as  a  man  who  has  committed 
murder  ;  and  if  our  Kover,  through  the  hunting  blood  that 
was  in  him,  should  once  mistake  a  sheep  for  a  deer,  and 
kill  him,  we  should  be  obliged  to  give  him  up  to  justice,  — 
all  his  good  looks  and  good  qualities  could  not  save  him. 

What  anxieties  his  training  under  this  head  cost  us  ! 
When  we  were  driving  out  along  the  clean,  sandy  roads, 
among  the  piny  groves  of  Maine,  it  was  half  our  enjoyment 
to  see  E/over,  with  ears  and  tail  wild  and  flying  with  ex 
citement  and  enjoyment,  bounding  and  barking,  now  on 


74  QUEER   LITTLE   PEOPLE 

this  side  the  carriage,  now  on  that,  —  now  darting  through 
the  woods  straight  as  an  arrow,  in  his  leaps  after  birds  or 
squirrels,  and  anon  returning  to  trot  obediently  by  the  car 
riage,  and,  wagging  his  tail,  to  ask  applause  for  his  perform 
ances.  But  anon  a  flock  of  sheep  appeared  in  a  distant 
field,  and  away  would  go  Rover  in  full  bow-wow,  plunging 
in  among  them,  scattering  them  hither  and  thither  in  dire 
confusion.  Then  Johnny  and  Bill  and  all  hands  would 
spring  from  the  carriage  in  full  chase  of  the  rogue  ;  and  all 
of  us  shouted  vainly  in  the  rear ;  and  finally  the  rascal 
would  be  dragged  back,  panting  and  crestfallen,  to  be  ad 
monished,  scolded,  and  cuffed  with  salutary  discipline, 
heartily  administered  by  his  best  friends  for  the  sake  of 
saving  his  life.  "  Eover,  you  naughty  dog  !  Don't  you 
know  you  must  n't  chase  the  sheep  ?  You  '11  be  killed, 
some  of  these  days."  Admonitions  of  this  kind,  well 
shaken  and  thumped  in,  at  last  seemed  to  reform  him 
thoroughly.  He  grew  so  conscientious  that,  when  a  flock 
of  sheep  appeared  on  the  side  of  the  road,  he  would  imme 
diately  go  to  the  other  side  of  the  carriage,  and  turn  away 
his  head,  rolling  up  his  eyes  meanwhile  to  us  for  praise  at 
his  extraordinary  good  conduct.  "  Good  dog,  Rove  !  nice 
dog !  good  fellow  !  he  does  n't  touch  the  sheep,  —  no,  he 
does  n't."  Such  were  the  rewards  of  virtue  which  sweet 
ened  his  self-denial ;  hearing  which,  he  would  plume  up 
his  feathery  tail,  and  loll  out  his  tongue,  with  an  air  of 
virtuous  assurance  quite  edifying  to  behold. 

Another  of  Rover's  dangers  was  a  habit  he  had  of  run 
ning  races  and  cutting  capers  with  the  railroad  engines  as 
they  passed  near  our  dwelling. 

We  lived  in  plain  sight  of  the  track,  and  three  or  four 
times  a  day  the  old,  puffing,  smoking  iron  horse  thundered 
by,  dragging  his  trains  of  cars,  and  making  the  very  ground 
shake  under  him.  Rover  never  could  resist  the  temptation 
to  run  and  bark,  and  race  with  so  lively  an  antagonist; 


OUR  DOGS  75 

and,  to  say  the  truth,  John  and  Willy  were  somewhat  of 
his  mind,  —  so  that,  though  they  were  directed  to  catch 
and  hinder  him,  they  entered  so  warmly  into  his  own  feel 
ings  that  they  never  succeeded  in  breaking  up  the  habit. 
Every  day  when  the  distant  whistle  was  heard,  away  would 
go  Eover,  out  of  the  door  or  through  the  window  —  no 
matter  which,  —  race  down  to  meet  the  cars,  couch  down 
on  the  track  in  front  of  them,  barking  with  all  his  might, 
as  if  it  were  only  a  fellow-dog,  and  when  they  came  so 
near  that  escape  seemed  utterly  impossible,  he  would  lie 
flat  down  between  the  rails  and  suffer  the  whole  train  to 
pass  over  him,  and  then  jump  up  and  bark,  full  of  glee,  in 
the  rear.  Sometimes  he  varied  this  performance  more  dan 
gerously  by  jumping  out  full  tilt  between  two  middle  cars 
when  the  train  had  passed  half-way  over  him.  Everybody 
predicted,  of  course,  that  he  would  be  killed  or  maimed, 
and  the  loss  of  a  paw,  or  of  his  fine,  saucy  tail,  was  the 
least  of  the  dreadful  things  which  were  prophesied  about 
him.  But  Eover  lived  and  throve  in  his  imprudent 
courses  notwithstanding. 

The  engineers  and  firemen,  who  began  by  throwing 
sticks  of  wood  and  bits  of  coal  at  him,-  at  last  were  quite 
subdued  by  his  successful  impudence,  and  came  to  consider 
him  as  a  regular  institution  of  the  railroad,  and,  if  any 
family  excursion  took  him  off  for  a  day,  they  would  in 
quire  with  interest,  "  Where  ?s  our  dog  ?  —  what  ?s  become 
of  Rover  ?  "  As  to  the  female  part  of  our  family,  we  had 
so  often  anticipated  piteous  scenes  when  poor  Eover  would 
be  brought  home  with  broken  paws  or  without  his  pretty 
tail,  that  we  quite  used  up  our  sensibilities,  and  concluded 
that  some  kind  angel,  such  as  is  appointed  to  watch  over 
little  children's  pets,  must  take  special  care  of  our  Eover. 

Eover  had  very  tender  domestic  affections.  His  attach 
ment  to  his  little  playfellows  was  most  intense  ;  and  one 
time,  when  all  of  them  were  taken  off  together  on  a  week's 


76  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

excursion,  and  Rover  left  alone  at  home,  his  low  spirits 
were  really  pitiful.  He  refused  entirely  to  eat  for  the 
first  day,  and  finally  could  only  be  coaxed  to  take  nour 
ishment,  with  many  strokings  and  caresses,  by  being  fed 
out  of  Miss  Anna's  own  hand.  What  perfectly  boisterous 
joy  he  showed  when  the  children  came  back  !  —  careering 
round  and  round,  picking  up  chips  and  bits  of  sticks,  and 
coming  and  offering  them  to  one  and  another,  in  the  ful 
ness  of  his  doggish  heart,  to  show  how  much  he  wanted  to 
give  them  something. 

This  mode  of  signifying  his  love  by  bringing  something 
in  his  mouth  was  one  of  his  most  characteristic  tricks. 
At  one  time  he  followed  the  carriage  from  Brunswick  to 
Bath,  and  in  the  streets  of  the  city  somehow  lost  his  way, 
so  that  he  was  gone  all  night.  Many  a  little  heart  went 
to  bed  anxious  and  sorrowful  for  the  loss  of  its  shaggy 
playfellow  that  night,  and  Rover  doubtless  was  remembered 
in  many  little  prayers  ;  what,  therefore,  was  the  joy  of 
being  awakened  by  a  joyful  barking  under  the  window  the 
next  morning,  when  his  little  friends  rushed  in  their  night 
gowns  to  behold  Rover  back  again,  fresh  and  frisky,  bear 
ing  in  his  mouth  a  branch  of  a  tree  about  six  feet  long,  as 
his  offering  of  joy. 

When  the  family  removed  to  Zion  Hill,  Rover  went 
with  them,  the  trusty  and  established  family  friend.  Age 
had  somewhat  matured  his  early  friskiness.  Perhaps  the 
grave  neighborhood  of  a  theological  seminary  and  the  re 
sponsibility  of  being  a  professor's  dog  might  have  some 
thing  to  do  with  it,  but  Rover  gained  an  established  char 
acter  as  a  dog  of  respectable  habits,  and  used  to  march  to 
the  post-office  at  the  heels  of  his  master  twice  a  day  as 
regularly  as  any  theological  student. 

Little  Charley  the  second  —  the  youngest  of  the  brood, 
who  took  the  place  of  our  lost  little  Prince  Charley  —  was 
yet  padding  about  in  short  robes,  and  seemed  to  regard 


OUR  DOGS  77 

Rover  in  the  light  of  a  discreet  older  brother,  and  Rover's 
manners  to  him  were  of  most  protecting  gentleness.  Char 
ley  seemed  to  consider  Rover  in  all  things  as  such  a  model, 
that  he  overlooked  the  difference  between  a  dog  and  a  boy, 
and  wearied  himself  with  fruitless  attempts  to  scratch  his 
ear  with  his  foot  as  Rover  did,  and  one  day  was  brought 
in  dripping  from  a  neighboring  swamp,  where  he  had  been 
lying  down  in  the  water,  because  Rover  did. 

Once  in  a  while  a  wild  oat  or  two  from  Rover's  old  sack 
would  seem  to  entangle  him.  Sometimes,  when  we  were 
driving  out,  he  would,  in  his  races  after  the  carriage,  make 
a  flying  leap  into  a  farmer's  yard,  and,  if  he  lighted  in  a 
flock  of  chickens  or  turkeys,  gobble  one  off-hand,  and  be 
off  again  and  a  mile  ahead  before  the  mother  hen  had  re 
covered  from  her  astonishment.  Sometimes,  too,  he  would 
have  a  race  with  the  steam-engine  just  for  old  acquaintance' 
sake.  But  these  were  comparatively  transient  follies ;  in 
general,  no  members  of  the  grave  institutions  around  him 
behaved  with  more  dignity  and  decorum  than  Rover.  He 
tried  to  listen  to  his  master's  theological  lectures,  and  to 
attend  chapel  on  Sundays  ;  but  the  prejudices  of  society 
were  against  him,  and  so  he  meekly  submitted  to  be  shut 
out,  and  waited  outside  the  door  on  these  occasions. 

He  formed  a  part  of  every  domestic  scene.  At  family 
prayers,  stretched  out  beside  his  master,  he  looked  up  re 
flectively  with  his  great  soft  eyes,  and  seemed  to  join  in 
the  serious  feeling  of  the  hour.  When  all  were  gay,  when 
singing,  or  frolicking,  or  games  were  going  on,  Rover  barked 
and  frisked  in  higher  glee  than  any.  At  night  it  was  his 
joy  to  stretch  his  furry  length  by  our  bedside,  where  he 
slept  with  one  ear  on  cock  for  any  noise  which  it  might 
be  his  business  to  watch  and  attend  to.  It  was  a  comfort 
to  hear  the  tinkle  of  his  collar  when  he  moved  in  the 
night,  or  to  be  wakened  by  his  cold  nose  pushed  against 
one's  hand  if  one  slept  late  in  the  morning.  And  then  he 


78  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

was  always  so  glad  when  we  woke ;  and  when  any  member 
of  the  family  circle  was  gone  for  a  few  days,  Rover's  warm 
delight  and  welcome  were  not  the  least  of  the  pleasures  of 
return. 

And  what  became  of  him  ?  Alas  !  the  fashion  came  up 
of  poisoning  dogs,  and  this  poor,  good,  fond,  faithful  crea 
ture  was  enticed  into  swallowing  poisoned  meat.  One  day 
he  came  in  suddenly,  ill  and  frightened,  and  ran  to  the 
friends  who  always  had  protected  him,  —  but  in  vain.  In 
a  few  moments  he  was  in  convulsions,  and  all  the  tears  and 
sobs  of  his  playfellows  could  not  help  him ;  he  closed  his 
bright,  loving  eyes,  and  died  in  their  arms. 

If  those  who  throw  poison  to  dogs  could  only  see  the 
real  grief  it  brings  into  a  family  to  lose  the  friend  and  play 
fellow  who  has  grown  up  with  the  children,  and  shared 
their  plays,  and  been  for  years  in  every  family  scene,  —  if 
they  could  know  how  sorrowful  it  is  to  see  the  poor  dumb 
friend  suffer  agonies  which  they  cannot  relieve,  —  if  they 
could  see  all  this,  we  have  faith  to  believe  they  never  would 
do  so  more. 

Our  poor  Rover  was  buried  with  decent  care  near  the 
house,  and  a  mound  of  petunias  over  him  kept  his  memory 
ever  bright ;  but  it  will  be  long  before  his  friends  will  get 
another  as  true. 

Ill 

After  the  sad  fate  of  Rover,  there  came  a  long  interval 
in  which  we  had  no  dog.  Our  hearts  were  too  sore  to 
want  another.  His  collar,  tied  with  black  crape,  hung 
under  a  pretty  engraving  of  Landseer's,  called  "  My  Dog," 
which  we  used  to  fancy  to  be  an  exact  resemblance  of  our 
pet. 

The  children  were  some  of  them  grown  up  and  gone  to 
school,  or  scattered  about  the  world.  If  ever  the  question 


OUR  DOGS  79 

of  another  dog  was  agitated,  papa  cut  it  short  with,  "  I 
won't  have  another ;  I  won't  be  made  to  feel  again  as  I 
did  about  Bover."  But  somehow  Mr.  Charley  the  younger 
got  his  eye  on  a  promising  litter  of  puppies,  and  at  last  he 
begged  papa  into  consenting  that  he  might  have  one  of 
them. 

It  was  a  little  black  mongrel,  of  no  particular  race  or 
breed,  —  a  mere  common  cur,  without  any  pretensions  to 
family,  but  the  best-natured,  j  oiliest  little  low-bred  pup 
that  ever  boy  had  for  a  playmate.  To  be  sure,  he  had  the 
usual  puppy  sins  ;  he  would  run  away  with  papa's  slippers 
and  boots  and  stockings ;  he  would  be  under  everybody's 
feet,  at  the  most  inconvenient  moment ;  he  chewed  up  a 
hearth-broom  or  two,  and  pulled  one  of  Charley's  caps  to 
pieces  in  the  night,  with  an  industry  worthy  of  a  better 
cause ;  —  still,  because  he  was  dear  to  Charley,  papa  and 
mamma  winked  very  hard  at  his  transgressions. 

The  name  of  this  little  black  individual  was  Stromion,  — 
a  name  taken  from  a  German  fairy  tale,  which  the  Pro 
fessor  was  very  fond  of  reading  in  the  domestic  circle  ;  and 
Stromion,  by  dint  of  much  patience,  much  feeding,  and  very 
indulgent  treatment,  grew  up  into  a  very  fat,  common-look 
ing,  black  cur  dog,  not  very  prepossessing  in  appearance 
and  manners,  but  possessed  of  the  very  best  heart  in  the 
world,  and  most  inconceivably  affectionate  and  good-natured. 
Sometimes  some  of  the  older  members  of  the  family  would 
trouble  Charley's  enjoyment  in  his  playfellow  by  suggesting 
that  he  was  no  blood  dog,  and  that  he  belonged  to  no  par 
ticular  dog  family  that  could  be  named.  Papa  comforted 
him  by  the  assurance  that  Stromion  did  belong  to  a  very 
old  and  respectable  breed,  —  that  he  was  a  mongrel ;  and 
Charley  after  that  valued  him  excessively  under  this  head ; 
and  if  any  one  tauntingly  remarked  that  Stromion  was  only 
a  cur,  he  would  flame  up  in  his  defense,  —  "  He  is  n't  a  cur, 
he 's  a  mongrel,"  introducing  him  to  strangers  with  the 


80  QUEER   LITTLE    PEOPLE 

addition  to  all  his  other  virtues,  that  he  was  a  "  pure  mon 
grel,  —  papa  says  so." 

The  edict  against  dogs  in  the  family  having  once  heen 
broken  down,  Master  Will  proceeded  to  gratify  his  own 
impulses,  and  soon  led  home  to  the  family  circle  an  enor 
mous  old  black  Newfoundland,  of  pure  breed,  which  had 
been  presented  him  by  a  man  who  was  leaving  the  place. 
Prince  was  in  the  decline  of  his  days,  but  a  fine,  majestic 
old  fellow.  He  had  a  sagacity  and  capacity  of  personal 
affection  which  were  uncommon.  Many  dogs  will  change 
from  master  to  master  without  the  least  discomposure.  A 
good  bone  will  compensate  for  any  loss  of  the  heart,  and 
make  a  new  friend  seem  quite  as  good  as  an  old  one.  But 
Prince  had  his  affections  quite  as  distinctly  as  a  human 
being,  and  we  learned  this  to  our  sorrow  when  he  had  to 
be  weaned  from  his  old  master  under  our  roof.  His  howls 
and  lamentations  were  so  dismal  and  protracted,  that  the 
house  could  not  contain  him  ;  we  were  obliged  to  put  him 
into  an  outhouse  to  compose  his  mind,  and  we  still  have  a 
vivid  image  of  him  sitting,  the  picture  of  despair,  over  an 
untasted  mutton  shank,  with  his  nose  in  the  air,  and  the 
most  dismal  howls  proceeding  from  his  mouth.  Time,  the 
comforter,  however,  assuaged  his  grief,  and  he  came  at  last 
to  transfer  all  his  stores  of  affection  to  Will,  and  to  con 
sider  himself  once  more  as  a  dog  with  a  master. 

Prince  used  to  inhabit  his  young  master's  apartment,  from 
the  window  of  which  he  would  howl  dismally  when  Will 
left  him  to  go  to  the  academy  near  by,  and  yelp  triumphant 
welcomes  when  he  saw  him  returning.  He  was  really  and 
passionately  fond  of  music,  and,  though  strictly  forbidden 
the  parlor,  would  push  and  elbow  his  way  there  with 
dogged  determination  when  there  was  playing  or  singing. 
Any  one  who  should  have  seen  Prince's  air  when  he  had  a 
point  to  carry,  would  understand  why  quiet  obstinacy  is 
called  doggedness. 


OUR  DOGS  81 

The  female  members  of  the  family,  seeing  that  two  dogs 
had  gained  admission  to  the  circle,  had  cast  their  eyes  ad 
miringly  on  a  charming  little  Italian  greyhound,  that  was 
living  in  doleful  captivity  at  a  dog-fancier's  in  Boston,  and 
resolved  to  set  him  free  and  have  him  for  their  own.  Ac 
cordingly  they  returned  one  day  in  triumph,  with  him  in 
their  arms,  —  a  fair,  delicate  creature,  white  as  snow,  except 
one  mouse-colored  ear.  He  was  received  with  enthusiasm, 
and  christened  Giglio ;  the  honors  of  his  first  bath  and 
toilette  were  performed  by  Mesdemoiselles  the  young  ladies 
on  their  knees,  as  if  he  had  been  in  reality  young  Prince 
Giglio  from  fairyland. 

Of  all  beautiful  shapes  in  dog  form,  never  was  there  one 
more  perfect  than  this.  His  hair  shone  like  spun  glass, 
and  his  skin  was  as  fine  and  pink  as  that  of  a  baby  ;  his 
paws  and  ears  were  translucent  like  fine  china,  and  he  had 
great,  soft,  tremulous  dark  eyes ;  his  every  movement  seemed 
more  graceful  than  the  last.  Whether  running  or  leaping, 
or  sitting  in  graceful  attitudes  on  the  parlor  table  among 
the  ladies'  embroidery-frames,  with  a  great  rose-colored  bow 
under  his  throat,  he  was  alike  a  thing  of  beauty,  and  his 
beauty  alone  won  all  hearts  to  him. 

When  the  papa  first  learned  that  a  third  dog  had  been  in 
troduced  into  the  household,  his  patience  gave  way.  The 
thing  was  getting  desperate  ;  we  were  being  overrun  with 
dogs ;  our  house  was  no  more  a  house,  but  a  kennel ;  it 
ought  to  be  called  Cunopolis,  —  a  city  of  dogs ;  he  could 
not  and  would  not  have  it  so  ;  but  papa,  like  most  other 
indulgent  old  gentlemen,  was  soon  reconciled  to  the  chil 
dren's  pets.  In  fact,  Giglio  was  found  cowering  under  the 
bedclothes  at  the  Professor's  feet  not  two  mornings  after  his 
arrival,  and  the  good  gentleman  descended  with  him  in  his 
arms  to  breakfast,  talking  to  him  in  the  most  devoted  man 
ner  :  —  "  Poor  little  Giglio,  was  he  cold  last  night  ?  and 
did  he  want  to  get  into  papa's  bed  ?  he  should  be  brought 


82  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

down  stairs,  that  he  should  ;  "  —  all  which,  addressed  to  a 
young  rascal  whose  sinews  were  all  like  steel,  and  who  could 
have  jumped  from  the  top  stair  to  the  hottom  like  a  feather, 
was  sufficiently  amusing. 

Giglio's  singular  beauty  and  grace  were  his  only  merits  ;  he 
had  no  love  nor  power  of  loving ;  he  liked  to  be  petted  and 
kept  warm,  but  it  mattered  nothing  to  him  who  did  it. 
He  was  as  ready  to  turn  off  with  a  stranger  as  with  his  very 
best  friend,  —  would  follow  any  whistle  or  any  caller,  — 
was,  in  fact,  such  a  gay  rover,  that  we  came  very  near 
losing  him  many  times  ;  and  more  than  once  he  was  brought 
back  from  the  Boston  cars,  on  board  which  he  had  followed 
a  stranger.  He  also  had,  we  grieve  to  say,  very  careless 
habits  ;  and  after  being  washed  white  as  snow,  and  adorned 
with  choice  rose-colored  ribbons,  would  be  brought  back 
soiled  and  ill-smelling  from  a  neighbor's  livery  stable,  where 
he  had  been  indulging  in  low  society.  For  all  that,  he  was 
very  lordly  and  aristocratic  in  his  airs  with  poor  Stromion, 
who  was  a  dog  with  a  good,  loving  heart,  if  he  was  black 
and  homely.  Stromion  admired  Giglio  with  the  most  evi 
dent  devotion  ;  he  would  always  get  up  to  give  him  the 
warm  corner,  and  would  always  sit  humbly  in  the  distance 
and  gaze  on  him  with  most  longing  admiration,  —  for  all  of 
which  my  fine  gentleman  rewarded  him  only  with  an  occa 
sional  snarl  or  a  nip,  as  he  went  by  him.  Sometimes  Giglio 
would  condescend  to  have  a  romp  with  Stromion  for  the 
sake  of  passing  the  time,  and  then  Stromion  would  be  per 
fectly  delighted,  and  frisk  and  roll  his  clumsy  body  over 
the  carpet  with  his  graceful  antagonist,  all  whose  motions 
were  a  study  for  an  artist.  When  Giglio  was  tired  of  play, 
he  would  give  Stromion  a  nip  that  would  send  him  yelping 
from  the  field  ;  and  then  he  would  tick,  tick  gracefully  away 
to  some  embroidered  ottoman  forbidden  to  all  but  himself, 
where  he  would  sit  graceful  and  classical  as  some  Etruscan 
vase,  and  look  down  superior  on  the  humble  companion 
who  looked  up  to  him  with  respectful  admiration. 


OUR  DOGS  83 

Giglio  knew  his  own  good  points,  and  was  possessed  with 
the  very  spirit  of  a  coquette.  He  would  sometimes  obsti 
nately  refuse  the  caresses  and  offered  lap  of  his  mistresses, 
and  seek  to  ingratiate  himself  with  some  stolid  theological 
visitor,  for  no  other  earthly  purpose  that  we  could  see  than 
that  he  was  determined  to  make  himself  the  object  of  at 
tention.  We  have  seen  him  persist  in  jumping  time  and 
again  on  the  hard  bony  knees  of  some  man  who  hated 
dogs  and  did  not  mean  to  notice  him,  until  he  won  atten 
tion  and  caresses,  when  immediately  he  would  spring  down 
and  tick  away  perfectly  contented.  He  assumed  lofty,  fine- 
gentleman  airs  with  Prince  also,  for  which  sometimes  he 
got  his  reward,  —  for  Prince,  the  old,  remembered  that  he 
was  a  dog  of  blood,  and  would  not  take  any  nonsense  from 
him. 

Like  many  old  dogs,  Prince  had  a  very  powerful  doggy 
smell,  which  was  a  great  personal  objection  to  him,  and 
Giglio  was  always  in  a  civil  way  making  reflections  upon 
this  weak  point.  Prince  was  fond  of  indulging  himself  with 
an  afternoon  nap  on  the  door-mat,  and  sometimes  when  he 
rose  from  his  repose,  Giglio  would  spring  gracefully  from 
the  table  where  he  had  been  overlooking  him,  and,  picking 
his  way  daintily  to  the  mat,  would  snuff  at  it,  with  his 
long,  thin  nose,  with  an  air  of  extreme  disgust.  It  was 
evidently  a  dog  insult  done  according  to  the  politest  modes 
of  refined  society,  and  said  as  plain  as  words  could  say,  — 
"  My  dear  sir,  excuse  me,  but  can  you  tell  what  makes  this 
peculiar  smell  where  you  have  been  lying  ?  "  At  any  rate, 
Prince  understood  the  sarcasm,  for  a  deep  angry  growl  and 
a  sharp  nip  would  now  and  then  teach  my  fine  gentleman 
to  mind  his  own  business. 

Giglio' s  lot  at  last  was  to  travel  in  foreign  lands,  for  his 
young  mistresses,  being  sent  to  school  in  Paris,  took  him 
with  them  to  finish  his  education  and  acquire  foreign 
graces.  He  was  smuggled  on  board  the  Fulton,  and  placed 


84  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

in  an  upper  berth,  well  wrapped  in  a  blanket ;  and  the 
last  we  saw  of  him  was  his  long,  thin,  Italian  nose,  and 
dark,  tremulous  eyes  looking  wistfully  at  us  from  the  folds 
of  the  flannel  in  which  he  shivered.  Sensitiveness  to  cold 
was  one  of  his  great  peculiarities.  In  winter  he  wore  little 
blankets,  which  his  fond  mistresses  made  with  anxious  care, 
and  on  which  his  initials  were  embroidered  with  their  own 
hands.  In  the  winter  weather  on  Zion  Hill  he  was  often 
severely  put  to  it  to  gratify  his  love  of  roving  in  the  cold 
snows ;  he  would  hold  up  first  one  leg  and  then  the  other, 
and  contrive  to  get  along  on  three,  so  as  to  save  himself  as 
much  as  possible ;  and  more  than  once  he  caught  severe 
colds,  requiring  careful  nursing  and  medical  treatment  to 
bring  him  round  again. 

The  Fulton  sailed  early  in  March.  It  was  chilly,  stormy 
weather,  so  that  the  passengers  all  suffered  somewhat  with 
cold,  and  Master  Giglio  was  glad  to  lie  rolled  in  his  blanket, 
looking  like  a  sea-sick  gentleman.  The  captain  very  gen 
erously  allowed  him  a  free  passage,  and  in  pleasant  weather 
he  used  to  promenade  the  deck,  where  his  beauty  won  for 
him  caresses  and  attentions  innumerable.  The  stewards 
and  cooks  always  had  choice  morsels  for  him,  and  fed  him 
to  such  a  degree  as  would  have  spoiled  any  other  dog's 
figure  ;  but  his  could  not  be  spoiled.  All  the  ladies  vied 
with  each  other  in  seeking  his  good  graces,  and  after  din 
ner  he  pattered  from  one  to  another,  to  be  fed  with  sweet 
things  and  confectionery,  and  hear  his  own  praises,  like  a 
gay  buck  of  fashion  as  he  was. 

Landed  in  Paris,  he  met  a  warm  reception  at  the  pension 

of  Madame  B ;  but  ambition  filled  his  breast.  He 

was  in  the  great,  gay  city  of  Paris,  the  place  where  a  hand 
some  dog  has  but  to  appear  to  make  his  fortune,  and  so 
Giglio  resolved  to  seek  for  himself  a  more  brilliant 
destiny. 

One  day,  when  he  was  being    led  to  take  the  air  in  the 


OUK  DOGS  85 

court,  he  slipped  his  leash,  sped  through  the  gate,  and  away 
down  the  street  like  the  wind.  It  was  idle  to  attempt  to 
follow  him ;  he  was  gone  like  a  bird  in  the  air,  and  left  the 
hearts  of  his  young  mistresses  quite  desolate. 

Some  months  after,  as  they  were  one  evening  eating  ices 
in  the  Champs  Elyse'es,  a  splendid  carriage  drove  up,  from 
which  descended  a  liveried  servant,  with  a  dog  in  his  arms. 
It  was  Giglio,  the  faithless  Giglio,  with  his  one  mouse- 
colored  ear,  that  marked  him  from  all  other  dogs  !  He  had 
evidently  accomplished  his  destiny,  and  become  the  darling 
of  rank  and  fashion,  rode  in  an  elegant  carriage,  and  had 
a  servant  in  livery  devoted  to  him.  Of  course  he  did  not 
pretend  to  notice  his  former  friends.  The  footman,  who 
had  come  out  apparently  to  give  him  an  airing,  led  him  up 
and  down  close  by  where  they  were  sitting,  and  bestowed 
on  him  the  most  devoted  attentions.  Of  course  there  was 
no  use  in  trying  to  reclaim  him,  and  so  they  took  their  last 
look  of  the  fair  inconstant,  and  left  him  to  his  brilliant 
destiny.  And  thus  ends  the  history  of  PRINCE  GIGLIO. 


IV 

After  Prince  Giglio  deserted  us  and  proved  so  faithless, 
we  were  for  a  while  determined  not  to  have  another  pet. 
They  were  all  good  for  nothing,  —  all  alike  ungrateful ;  we 
forswore  the  whole  race  of  dogs.  But  the  next  winter  we 
went  to  live  in  the  beautiful  city  of  Florence,  in  Italy,  and 
there,  in  spite  of  all  our  protestations,  our  hearts  were 
again  ensnared. 

You  must  know  that  in  the  neighborhood  of  Florence  is 
a  celebrated  villa,  owned  by  a  Russian  nobleman,  Prince 
Demidoff,  and  that  among  other  fine  things  that  are  to  be 
found  there  is  a  very  nice  breed  of  King  Charles  spaniels, 
which  are  called  DemidofFs,  after  the  place.  One  of  these, 


86  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

a  pretty  little  creature,  was  presented  to  us  by  a  kind  lady, 
and  our  resolution  against  having  any  more  pets  all  melted 
away  in  view  of  the  soft,  "beseeching  eyes,  the  fine,  silky 
ears,  the  glossy,  wavy  hair,  and  bright  chestnut  paws  of  the 
new  favorite.  She  was  exactly  such  a  pretty  creature  as 
one  sees  painted  in  some  of  the  splendid  old  Italian  pictures, 
and  which  Mr.  Kuskin  describes  as  belonging  to  the  race  of 
"  fringy  paws."  The  little  creature  was  warmly  received 
among  us  ;  an  ottoman  was  set  apart  for  her  to  lie  on  ;  and 
a  bright  bow  of  green,  red,  and  white  ribbon,  the  Italian 
colors,  was  prepared  for  her  neck  ;  and  she  was  christened 
Florence,  after  her  native  city. 

Florence  was  a  perfect  little  fine  lady,  and  a  perfect 
Italian,  —  sensitive,  intelligent,  nervous,  passionate,  and 
constant  in  her  attachments,  but  with  a  hundred  little  whims 
and  fancies  that  required  petting  and  tending  hourly.  She 
was  perfectly  miserable  if  she  was  not  allowed  to  attend  us 
in  our  daily  drives,  yet  in  the  carriage  she  was  so  excitable 
and  restless,  so  interested  to  take  part  in  everything  she 
saw  and  heard  in  the  street,  that  it  was  all  we  could  do  to 
hold  her  in  and  make  her  behave  herself  decently.  She  was 
nothing  but  a  little  bundle  of  nerves,  apparently  all  the  while 
in  a  tremble  of  excitement  about  one  thing  or  another ;  she 
was  so  disconsolate  if  left  at  home,  that  she  went  everywhere 
with  us.  She  visited  the  picture  galleries,  the  museums, 
and  all  the  approved  sights  of  Florence,  and  improved  her 
mind  as  much  as  many  other  young  ladies  who  do  the  same. 

Then  we  removed  from  Florence  to  Rome,  and  poor  Flo 
was  direfully  seasick  on  board  the  steamboat,  in  company 
with  all  her  young  mistresses,  but  recovered  herself  at  Civita 
Vecchia,  and  entered  Rome  in  high  feather.  There  she 
settled  herself  complacently  in  our  new  lodgings,  which 
were  far  more  spacious  and  elegant  than  those  we  had  left 
in  Florence,  and  began  to  claim  her  little  rights  in  all  the 
sight-seeing  of  the  Eternal  City. 


OUR  DOGS  87 

She  went  with  us  to  palaces  and  to  ruins,  scrambling  up 
and  down,  hither  and  thither,  with  the  utmost  show  of  in 
terest.  She  went  up  all  the  stairs  to  the  top  of  the  Capitol, 
except  the  very  highest  and  last,  where  she  put  on  airs, 
whimpered,  and  professed  such  little  frights,  that  her  mis 
tress  was  forced  to  carry  her  ;  but  once  on  top,  she  barked 
from  right  to  left,  —  now  at  the  snowy  top  of  old  Soracte, 
now  at  the  great,  wide,  desolate  plains  of  the  Campagna, 
and  now  at  the  old  ruins  of  the  Roman  Forum  down  under 
our  feet.  Upon  all  she  had  her  own  opinion,  and  was  not 
backward  to  express  herself.  At  other  times  she  used  to 
ride  with  us  to  a  beautiful  country  villa  outside  of  the  walls 
of  Home,  called  the  Pamfili  Doria.  How  beautiful  and 
lovely  this  place  was  I  can  scarcely  tell  my  little  friends. 
There  were  long  alleys  and  walks  of  the  most  beautiful 
trees  ;  there  were  winding  paths  leading  to  all  manner  of 
beautiful  grottos,  and  charming  fountains,  and  the  wide 
lawns  used  to  be  covered  with  the  most  lovely  flowers. 
There  were  anemones  that  looked  like  little  tulips,  growing 
about  an  inch  and  a  half  high,  and  of  all  colors,  —  blue, 
purple,  lilac,  pink,  crimson,  and  white,  —  and  there  were 
great  beds  of  fragrant  blue  and  white  violets.  As  to  the 
charming  grace  and  beauty  of  the  fountains  that  were  to  be 
found  here  and  there  all  through  the  grounds,  I  could  not 
describe  them  to  you.  They  were  made  of  marble,  carved 
in  all  sorts  of  fanciful  devices,  and  grown  over  with  green 
mosses  and  maidenhair. 

What  spirits  little  Miss  Flo  had,  when  once  set  down  in 
these  enchanting  fields !  While  all  her  mistresses  were 
gathering  lapfuls  of  many-colored  anemones,  violets,  and 
all  sorts  of  beautiful  things,  Flo  would  snuff  the  air,  and 
run  and  race  hither  and  thither,  with  her  silky  ears  flying 
and  her  whole  little  body  quivering  with  excitement.  Now 
she  would  race  round  the  grand  basin  of  a  fountain,  and 
bark  with  all  her  might  at  the  great  white  swans  that  were 


88  QUEEK  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

swelling  and  ruffling  their  silver-white  plumage,  and  took 
her  noisy  attentions  with  all  possible  composure.  Then  she 
would  run  off  down  some  long  side  alley  after  a  lot  of 
French  soldiers,  whose  gay  red  legs  and  blue  coats  seemed 
to  please  her  mightily ;  and  many  a  fine  chase  she  gave 
her  mistresses,  who  were  obliged  to  run  up  and  down,  here, 
there,  and  everywhere,  to  find  her  when  they  wanted  to  go 
home  again. 

One  time  my  lady's  friskiness  brought  her  into  quite  a 
serious  trouble,  as  you  shall  hear.  We  were  all  going  to 
St.  Peter's  Church,  and  just  as  we  came  to  the  bridge  of 
St.  Angelo,  that  crosses  the  Tiber,  we  met  quite  a  con 
course  of  carriages.  Up  jumped  my  lady  Florence,  all 
alive  and  busy,  —  for  she  always  reckoned  everything  that 
was  going  on  a  part  of  her  business,  —  and  gave  such  a 
spring  that  over  she  went,  sheer  out  of  the  carriage,  into 
the  mixed  medley  of  carriages,  horses,  and  people  below. 
We  were  all  frightened  enough,  but  not  half  so  frightened 
as  she  was,  as  she  ran  blindly  down  a  street,  followed  by  a 
perfect  train  of  ragged  little  black-eyed,  black-haired  boys, 
all  shouting  and  screaming  after  her.  As  soon  as  he  could, 
our  courier  got  down  and  ran  after  her,  but  he  might  as 
well  have  chased  a  streak  of  summer  lightning.  She  was 
down  the  street,  round  the  corner,  and  lost  to  view,  with 
all  the  ragamuffin  tribe,  men,  boys,  and  women,  after  her; 
and  so  we  thought  we  had  lost  her,  and  came  home  to  our 
lodgings  very  desolate  in  heart,  when  lo !  our  old  porter 
told  us  that  a  little  dog  that  looked  like  ours  had  come 
begging  and  whining  at  our  street  door,  but  before  he  could 
open  it  the  poor  little  wanderer  had  been  chased  away 
again  and  gone  down  the  street.  After  a  while  some  very 
polite  French  soldiers  picked  her  up  in  the  'Piazza,  di 
Spagna,  —  a  great  public  square  near  our  dwelling,  to  get 
into  which  we  were  obliged  to  go  down  some  one  or  two 
hundred  steps.  We  could  fancy  our  poor  Flo,  frightened 


OUR  DOGS  89 

and  panting,  flying  like  a  meteor  down  these  steps,  till  she 
was  brought  up  by  the  arms  of  a  soldier  below. 

Glad  enough  were  we  when  the  polite  soldier  brought 
her  back  to  our  doors  ;  —  and  one  must  say  one  good  thing 
for  French  soldiers  aJl  the  world  over,  that  they  are  the 
pleasantest-tempered  and  politest  people  possible,  so  very 
tender-hearted  towards  all  sorts  of  little  defenseless  pets,  so 
that  our  poor  runaway  could  not  have  fallen  into  better 
hands. 

After  this,  we  were  careful  to  hold  her  more  firmly 
when  she  had  her  little  nervous  starts  and  struggles  in 
riding  about  Home. 

One  day  we  had  been  riding  outside  of  the  walls  of  the 
city,  and  just  as  we  were  returning  home  we  saw  coming 
towards  us  quite  a  number  of  splendid  carriages  with 
prancing  black  horses.  It  was  the  Pope  and  several  of 
his  cardinals  coming  out  for  an  afternoon  airing.  The  car 
riages  stopped,  and  the  Pope  and  cardinals  all  got  out  to 
take  a  little  exercise  on  foot,  and  immediately  all  carriages 
that  were  in  the  way  drew  to  one  side,  and  those  of  the 
people  in  them  who  were  Roman  Catholics  got  out  and 
knelt  down  to  wait  for  the  Pope's  blessing  as  he  went  by. 
As  for  us,  we  were  contented  to  wait  sitting  in  the  carriage. 

On  came  the  Pope,  looking  like  a  fat,  mild,  kind-hearted 
old  gentleman,  smiling  and  blessing  the  people  as  he  went 
on,  and  the  cardinals  scuffing  along  in  the  dust  behind 
him.  He  walked  very  near  to  our  carriage,  and  Miss 
Florence,  notwithstanding  all  our  attempts  to  keep  her 
decent,  would  give  a  smart  little  bow-wow  right  in  his  face 
just  as  he  was  passing.  He  smiled  benignly,  and  put  out 
his  hand  in  sign  of  blessing  toward  our  carriage,  and 
Florence  doubtless  got  what  she  had  been  asking  for. 

From  Rome  we  traveled  to  Naples,  and  Miss  Flo  went 
with  us  through  our  various  adventures  there,  —  up  Mount 
Vesuvius,  where  she  half  choked  herself  with  sulphurous 


90  QUEEK  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

smoke.  There  is  a  place  near  Naples  called  the  Solfatara, 
which  is  thought  to  be  the  crater  of  the  extinct  volcano, 
where  there  is  a  cave  that  hisses,  and  roars,  and  puffs  out 
scalding  steam  like  a  perpetual  locomotive,  and  all  the 
ground  around  shakes  and  quivers  as  if  it  were  only  a 
crust  over  some  terrible  abyss.  The  pools  of  water  are  all 
white  with  sulphur ;  the  ground  is  made  of  sulphur  and 
arsenic  and  all  such  sort  of  uncanny  matters ;  and  we 
were  in  a  fine  fright  lest  Miss  Florence,  being  in  one  of 
her  wildest  and  most  indiscreet  moods,  should  tumble  into 
some  burning  hole,  or  strangle  herself  with  sulphur  ;  and 
in  fact  she  rolled  over  and  over  in  a  sulphur  puddle,  and 
then,  scampering  off,  rolled  in  ashes  by  way  of  cleaning 
herself.  We  could  not,  however,  leave  her  at  home  during 
any  of  our  excursions,  and  so  had  to  make  the  best  of 
these  imprudences. 

When  at  last  the  time  came  for  us  to  leave  Italy,  we 
were  warned  that  Florence  would  not  be  allowed  to  travel 
in  the  railroad  cars  in  the  French  territories.  All  dogs,  of 
all  sizes  and  kinds,  whose  owners  wish  to  have  travel  with 
them,  are  shut  up  in  a  sort  of  closet  by  themselves,  called 
the  dog-car;  and  we  thought  our  nervous,  excitable  little 
pet  would  be  frightened  into  fits,  to  be  separated  from  all 
her  friends,  and  made  to  travel  with  all  sorts  of  strange 
dogs.  So  we  determined  to  smuggle  her  along  in  a  bas 
ket.  At  Turin  we  bought  a  little  black  basket,  just  big 
enough  to  contain  her,  and  into  it  we  made  her  go,  — 
very  sorely  against  her  will,  as  we  could  not  explain  to 
her  the  reason  why.  Very  guilty  indeed  we  felt,  with  this 
traveling  conveyance  hung  on  one  arm,  sitting  in  the 
waiting-room,  and  dreading  every  minute  lest  somebody 
should  see  the  great  bright  eyes  peeping  through  the  holes 
of  the  basket,  or  hear  the  subdued  little  whines  and  howls 
which  every  now  and  then  came  from  its  depths. 

Florence  had  been  a  petted  lady,  used  to  having  her  own 


OUR  DOGS  91 

way,  and  a  great  deal  of  it ;  and  this  being  put  up  in  a 
little  black  basket,  where  she  could  neither  make  her  re 
marks  on  the  scenery,  nor  join  in  the  conversation  of  her 
young  mistresses,  seemed  to  her  a  piece  of  caprice  without 
rhyme  or  reason.  So  every  once  in  a  while  she  would  ex 
press  her  mind  on  the  subject  by  a  sudden  dismal  little 
whine ;  and  what  was  specially  trying,  she  would  take  the 
occasion  to  do  this  when  the  cars  stopped  and  all  was 
quiet,  so  that  everybody  could  hear  her.  Where  7s  that 
dog  ?  —  somebody 's  got  a  dog  in  here,  —  was  the  inquiry 
very  plain  to  be  seen  in  the  suspicious  looks  which  the 
guard  cast  upon  us  as  he  put  his  head  into  our  compart 
ment,  and  gazed  about  inquiringly.  Finally,  to  our  great 
terror,  a  railway  director,  a  tall,  gentlemanly  man,  took  his 
seat  in  our  very  compartment,  where  Miss  Florence's  bas 
ket  garnished  the  pocket  above  our  heads,  and  she  was  in 
one  of  her  most  querulous  moods.  At  every  stopping-place 
she  gave  her  little  sniffs  and  howls,  and  rattled  her  basket 
so  as  to  draw  all  eyes.  We  all  tried  to  look  innocent  and 
unconscious,  but  the  polite  railroad  director  very  easily 
perceived  what  was  the  matter.  He  looked  from  one 
anxious,  half-laughing  face  to  the  others,  with  a  kindly 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  but  said  nothing.  All  the  guards  and 
employes  bowed  down  to  him,  and  came  cap  in  hand  at 
every  stopping-place  to  take  his  orders.  What  a  relief  it 
was  to  hear  him  say,  in  a  low  voice,  to  them :  "  These 
young  ladies  have  a  little  dog  which  they  are  carrying. 
Take  no  notice  of  it,  and  do  not  disturb  them  !  "  Of 
course,  after  that,  though  Florence  barked  and  howled  and 
rattled  her  basket,  and  sometimes  showed  her  great  eyes, 
like  two  coal-black  diamonds,  through  its  lattice-work, 
nobody  saw  and  nobody  heard,  and  we  came  unmolested 
with  her  to  Paris. 

After  a  while  she  grew  accustomed  to  her  little  traveling 
carriage,  and  resigned  herself  quietly  to  go  to  sleep  in  it ; 


92  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

and  so  we  got  her  from  Paris  to  Kent,  where  we  stopped  a 
few  days  to  visit  some  friends  in  a  lovely  country  place 
called  Swaylands. 

Here  we  had  presented  to  us  another  pet,  that  was  ever 
after  the  chosen  companion  and  fast  friend  of  Florence. 
He  was  a  little  Skye  terrier,  of  the  color  of  a  Maltese  cat, 
covered  all  over  with  fine,  long,  silky  hair,  which  hung 
down  so  evenly,  that  it  was  difficult  at  the  first  glance  to 
say  which  was  his  head  and  which  his  tail.  But  at  the 
head  end  there  gleamed  out  a  pair  of  great,  soft,  speaking 
eyes,  that  formed  the  only  heauty  of  the  creature ;  and  very 
beautiful  they  were,  in  their  soft,  beseeching  lovingness. 

Poor  Rag  had  the  tenderest  heart  that  ever  was  hid  in  a 
bundle  of  hair ;  he  was  fidelity  and  devotion  itself,  and  used 
to  lie  at  our  feet  in  the  railroad  carriages  as  still  as  a  gray 
sheep-skin,  only  too  happy  to  be  there  on  any  terms.  It 
would  be  too  long  to  tell  our  traveling  adventures  in 
England ;  suffice  it  to  say  that  at  last  we  went  on  board 
the  Africa  to  come  home,  with  our  two  pets,  which  had  to 
be  handed  over  to  the  butcher,  and  slept  on  quarters  of 
mutton  and  sides  of  beef,  till  they  smelt  of  tallow  and  grew 
fat  in  a  most  vulgar  way. 

At  last  both  of  them  were  safely  installed  in  the  brown 
stone  cottage  in  Andover,  and  Rag  was  presented  to  a  young 
lady  to  whom  he  had  been  sent  as  a  gift  from  England, 
and  to  whom  he  attached  himself  with  the  most  faithful 
devotion. 

Both  dogs  insisted  on  having  their  part  of  the  daily 
walks  and  drives  of  their  young  mistresses,  and,  when  they 
observed  them  putting  on  their  hats,  would  run,  and  bark, 
and  leap,  and  make  as  much  noise  as  a  family  of  children 
clamoring  for  a  ride. 

After  a  few  months,  Florence  had  three  or  four  little 
puppies.  Very  puny  little  things  they  were ;  and  a  fierce^ 
nervous  little  mother  she  made.  Her  eyes  looked  blue  as 


OUR  DOGS  93 

burnished  steel,  and  if  anybody  only  set  foot  in  the  room 
where  her  basket  was,  her  hair  would  bristle,  and  she  would 
bark  so  fiercely  as  to  be  quite  alarming.  For  all  that,  her 
little  ones  proved  quite  a  failure,  for  they  were  all  stone- 
blind.  In  vain  we  waited  and  hoped  and  watched  for  nine 
days,  and  long  after ;  the  eyes  were  glazed  and  dim,  and  one 
by  one  they  died.  The  last  two  seemed  to  promise  to  sur 
vive,  and  were  familiarly  known  in  the  family  circle  by  the 
names  of  Milton  and  Beethoven. 

But  the  fatigues  of  nursing  exhausted  the  delicate  consti 
tution  of  poor  Florence,  and  she  lay  all  one  day  in  spasms. 
It  became  evident  that  a  tranquil  passage  must  be  secured 
for  Milton  and  Beethoven  to  the  land  of  shades,  or  their 
little  mother  would  go  there  herself ;  and  accordingly  they 
vanished  from  this  life. 

As  to  poor  Flo,  the  young  medical  student  in  the  family 
took  her  into  a  water-cure  course  of  treatment,  wrapping  her 
in  a  wet  napkin  first,  and  then  in  his  scarlet  flannel  dress 
ing-gown,  and  keeping  a  wet  cloth  with  iced  water  round 
her  head.  She  looked  out  of  her  wrappings,  patient  and 
pitiful,  like  a  very  small  old  African  female,  in  a  very 
serious  state  of  mind.  To  the  glory  of  the  water-cure, 
however,  this  course  in  one  day  so  cured  her,  that  she  was 
frisking  about  the  next,  happy  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

She  had,  however,  a  slight  attack  of  the  spasms,  which 
caused  her  to  run  frantically  and  cry  to  have  the  hall-door 
opened ;  and  when  it  was  opened,  she  scampered  up  in  all 
haste  into  the  chamber  of  her  medical  friend,  and,  not 
finding  him  there,  jumped  upon  his  bed,  and  began  with 
her  teeth  and  paws  to  get  around  her  the  scarlet  dressing- 
gown  in  which  she  had  found  relief  before.  So  she  was 
again  packed  in  wet  napkins,  and  after  that  never  had 
another  attack. 

After  this,  Florence  was  begged  from  us  by  a  lady  who 
fell  in  love  with  her  beautiful  eyes,  and  she  went  to  reside 


94  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

in  a  most  lovely  cottage  in  H ,  where  she  received  the 

devoted  attentions  of  a  whole  family.  The  family  physician, 
however,  fell  violently  in  love  with  her,  and,  by  dint  of 
caring  for  her  in  certain  little  ailments,  awakened  such  a 
sentiment  in  return,  that  at  last  she  was  given  to  him,  and 
used  to  ride  about  in  state  with  him  in  his  carriage,  visiting 
his  patients,  and  giving  her  opinion  on  their  symptoms. 

At  last  her  health  grew  delicate  and  her  appetite  failed. 
In  vain  chicken,  and  chops,  and  all  the  delicacies  that  could 
tempt  the  most  fastidious,  were  offered  to  her,  cooked  ex 
pressly  for  her  table  ;  the  end  of  all  things  fair  must  come, 
and  poor  Florence  breathed  her  last,  and  was  put  into  a 
little  rosewood  casket,  lined  with  white,  and  studded  with 
silver  nails,  and  so  buried  under  a  fine  group  of  chestnuts 
in  the  grounds  of  her  former  friends.  A  marble  tablet  was 
to  be  affixed  to  one  of  these,  commemorating  her  charms  ; 
but,  like  other  spoiled  beauties,  her  memory  soon  faded, 
and  the  tablet  has  been  forgotten. 

The  mistress  of  Rag,  who  is  devoted  to  his  memory,  in 
sists  that  not  enough  space  has  been  given  in  this  memoir 
to  his  virtues.  But  the  virtues  of  honest  Rag  were  of  that 
kind  which  can  be  told  in  a  few  sentences,  —  a  warm,  lov 
ing  heart,  a  boundless  desire  to  be  loved,  and  a  devotion 
that  made  him  regard  with  superstitious  veneration  all  the 
movements  of  his  mistress.  The  only  shrewd  trick  he  pos 
sessed  was  a  habit  of  drawing  on  her  sympathy  by  feigning 
a  lame  leg  whenever  she  scolded  or  corrected  him.  In  his 
English  days  he  had  had  an  injury  from  the  kick  of  a 
horse,  which,  however,  had  long  since  been  healed  ;  but  he 
remembered  the  petting  he  got  for  this  infirmity,  and  so 
recalled  it  whenever  he  found  that  his  mistress's  stock  of 
affection  was  running  low.  A  blow  or  a  harsh  word  would 
cause  him  to  limp  in  an  alarming  manner ;  but  a  few  ca 
resses  would  set  matters  all  straight  again. 

Rag  had  been  a    frantic  ratter,  and    often    roused    the 


OUR  DOGS  95 

whole  family  by  his  savage  yells  after  rats  that  he  heard 
gamboling  quite  out  of  his  reach  behind  the  partitions  in  the 
china  closet.  He  would  crouch  his  head  on  his  fore-paws, 
and  lie  watching  at  rat-holes,  in  hopes  of  intercepting  some 
transient  loafer ;  and  one  day  he  actually  broke  the  back 
and  bones  of  a  gray  old  thief  whom  he  caught  marauding 
in  the  china  closet. 

Proud  and  happy  was  he  of  this  feat ;  but,  poor  fellow  ! 
he  had  to  repose  on  the  laurels  thus  gained,  for  his  teeth 
were  old  and  poor,  and  more  than  one  old  rebel  slipped 
away  from  him,  leaving  him  screaming  with  disappointed 
ambition. 

At  last  poor  Bag  became  aged  and  toothless,  and  a  shake 
which  he  one  day  received  from  a  big  dog,  who  took  him 
for  a  bundle  of  wick-yarn,  hastened  the  breaking  up  of  his 
constitution.  He  was  attacked  with  acute  rheumatism,  and, 
notwithstanding  the  most  assiduous  cares  of  his  mistress, 
died  at  last  in  her  arms. 

Funeral  honors  were  decreed  him  ;  white  chrysanthe 
mums  and  myrtle  leaves  decked  his  bier.  And  so  Kag  was 
gathered  to  the  dogs  which  had  gone  before  him. 


Well,  after  the  departure  of  Madam  Florence  there  was 
a  long  cessation  of  the  dog  mania  in  our  family.  We  con 
cluded  that  we  would  have  no  more  pets ;  for  they  made 
too  much  anxiety,  and  care,  and  trouble,  and  broke  all  our 
hearts  by  death  or  desertion. 

At  last,  however,  some  neighbors  of  ours  took  unto  them 
selves,  to  enliven  their  dwelling,  a  little  saucy  Scotch  ter 
rier,  whose  bright  eyes  and  wicked  tricks  so  wrought  upon 
the  heart  of  one  of  our  juvenile  branches,  that  there  was 
no  rest  in  the  camp  without  this  addition  to  it.  Nothing 


96  QUEER   LITTLE   PEOPLE 

was  so  pretty,  so  bright,  so  knowing  and  cunning,  as  a 
"  Scotch  terrier,"  and  a  Scotch  terrier  we  must  have,  —  so 
said  Miss  Jenny,  our  youngest. 

And  so  a  bargain  was  struck  by  one  of  Jenny's  friends 
with  some  of  the  knowing  ones  in  Boston,  and  home  she 
came,  the  happy  possessor  of  a  genuine  article,  —  as  wide 
awake,  impertinent,  frisky,  and  wicked  a  little  elf  as  ever 
was  covered  with  a  shock  of  rough  tan-colored  hair. 

His  mistress  no  sooner  gazed  on  him,  than  she  was  in 
spired  to  give  him  a  name  suited  to  his  peculiar  character  ; 
—  so  he  frisked  into  the  front  door  announced  as  Wix,  and 
soon  made  himself  perfectly  at  home  in  the  family  circle, 
which  he  took,  after  his  own  fashion,  by  storm.  He  entered 
the  house  like  a  small  whirlwind,  dashed,  the  first  thing, 
into  the  Professor's  study,  seized  a  slipper  which  was  dang 
ling  rather  uncertainly  on  one  of  his  studious  feet,  and, 
wresting  it  off,  raced  triumphantly  with  it  around  the  hall, 
barking  distractedly  every  minute  that  he  was  not  shaking 
and  worrying  his  prize. 

Great  was  the  sensation.  Grandma  tottered  with  trem 
bling  steps  to  the  door,  and  asked,  with  hesitating  tones, 
what  sort  of  a  creature  that  might  be  ;  and  being  saluted 
with  the  jubilant  proclamation,  "  Why,  Grandma,  it  Js  my 
dog,  —  a  real  genuine  Scotch  terrier  j  he  '11  never  grow 
any  larger,  and  he 's  a  perfect  beauty !  don't  you  think 
so  ?  "  —  Grandma  could  only  tremblingly  reply,  "  Oh,  there 
is  not  any  danger  of  his  going  mad,  is  there  ?  Is  he  gen 
erally  so  playful  ?  " 

Playful  was  certainly  a  mild  term  for  the  tempest  of  ex 
citement  in  which  master  Wix  flew  round  and  round  in 
giddy  circles,  springing  over  ottomans,  diving  under  sofas, 
barking  from  beneath  chairs,  and  resisting  every  effort 
to  recapture  the  slipper  with  bristling  hair  and  blazing 
eyes,  as  if  the  whole  of  his  dog-life  consisted  in  keeping  his 
prize  ;  till  at  length  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  pussy's  tail,  — 


OUR  DOGS  97 

at  which,  dropping  the  slipper,  he  precipitated  himself  after 
the  flying  meteor,  tumbling,  rolling,  and  scratching  down 
the  kitchen  stairs,  standing  on  his  hind-legs  barking  dis 
tractedly  at  poor  Tom,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  the  sink, 
and  sat  with  his  tail  magnified  to  the  size  of  a  small  bol 
ster. 

This  cat,  the  most  reputable  and  steady  individual  of  his 
species,  the  darling  of  the  most  respectable  of  cooks,  had 
received  the  name  of  Thomas  Henry,  by  which  somewhat 
lengthy  appellation  he  was  generally  designated  in  the 
family  circle,  as  a  mark  of  the  respect  which  his  serious  and 
contemplative  manner  commonly  excited.  Thomas  had  but 
one  trick  of  popularity.  With  much  painstaking  and  care 
the  cook  had  taught  him  the  act  of  performing  a  somerset 
over  our  hands  when  held  at  a  decent  height  from  the 
floor ;  and  for  this  one  elegant  accomplishment,  added  to 
great  success  in  his  calling  of  rat-catching,  he  was  held  in 
great  consideration  in  the  family,  and  had  meandered  his 
decorous  way  about  the  house,  slept  in  the  sun,  and  other 
wise  conducted  himself  with  the  innocent  and  tranquil 
freedom  which  became  a  family  cat  of  correct  habits  and 
a  good  conscience. 

The  irruption  of  Wix  into  our  establishment  was  like 
the  bursting  of  a  bomb  at  the  feet  of  some  respectable 
citizen  going  tranquilly  to  market.  Thomas  was  a  cat  of 
courage,  and  rats  of  the  largest  size  shrunk  appalled  at  the 
very  sight  of  his  whiskers ;  but  now  he  sat  in  the  sink 
quite  cowed,  consulting  with  great,  anxious,  yellow  eyes  the 
throng  of  faces  that  followed  Wix  down  the  stairs,  and 
watching  anxiously  the  efforts  Miss  Jenny  was  making  to 
subdue  and  quiet  him. 

"  Wix,  you  naughty  little  rascal,  you  must  n't  bark  at 
Thomas  Henry  ;  be  still !  "  Whereat  Wix,  understanding 
himself  to  be  blamed,  brought  forth  his  trump  card  of  ac 
complishments,  which  he  always  offered  by  way  of  pacifica- 


98  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

tion  whenever  he  was  scolded.  He  reared  himself  up  on 
his  hind-legs,  hung  his  head  languishingly  on  one  side, 
lolled  out  his  tongue,  and  made  a  series  of  supplicatory 
gestures  with  his  fore-paws,  —  a  trick  which  never  failed  to 
bring  down  the  house  in  a  storm  of  applause,  and  carry  him 
out  of  any  scrape  with  flying  colors. 

Poor  Thomas  Henry,  from  his  desolate  sink,  saw  his 
terrible  rival  carried  off  in  Miss  Jenny's  arms  amid  the  ap 
plauses  of  the  whole  circle,  and  had  abundance  of  time  to 
reflect  on  the  unsubstantial  nature  of  popularity.  After 
that  he  grew  dejected  and  misanthropic,  —  a  real  Cardinal 
Wolsey  in  furs,  —  for  Wix  was  possessed  with  a  perfect 
cat-hunting  mania,  and,  when  he  was  not  employed  in 
other  mischief,  was  always  ready  for  a  bout  with  Thomas 
Henry. 

It  is  true,  he  sometimes  came  back  from  these  encoun 
ters  with  a  scratched  and  bloody  nose,  for  Thomas  Henry 
was  a  cat  of  no  mean  claw,  and  would  turn  to  bay  at 
times  ;  but  generally  he  felt  the  exertion  too  much  for  his 
advanced  years  and  quiet  habits,  and  so  for  safety  he  passed 
much  of  his  time  in  the  sink,  over  the  battlements  of  which 
he  would  leisurely  survey  the  efforts  of  the  enemy  to  get  at 
him.  The  cook  hinted  strongly  of  the  danger  of  rheuma 
tism  to  her  favorite  from  these  damp  quarters,  but  Wix  at 
present  was  the  reigning  favorite,  and  it  was  vain  to  dispute 
his  sway. 

Next  to  Thomas  Henry,  Wix  directed  his  principal 
efforts  to  teasing  Grandmamma.  Something  or  other  about 
her  black  dress  and  quiet  movements  seemed  to  suggest  to 
him  suspicions.  He  viewed  her  as  something  to  be  nar 
rowly  watched  ;  he  would  lie  down  under  some  chair  or 
table,  and  watch  her  motions  with  his  head  on  his  fore- 
paws  as  if  he  were  watching  at  a  rat-hole.  She  evidently 
was  not  a  rat,  he  seemed  to  say  to  himself,  but  who  knows 
what  she  may  be  ;  and  he  would  wink  at  her  with  his 


OUR  DOGS  99 

great  bright  eyes,  and,  if  she  began  to  get  up,  would  spring 
from  his  ambush  and  bark  at  her  feet  with  frantic  energy, 
—  by  which  means  he  nearly  threw  her  over  two  or  three 
times. 

His  young  mistress  kept  a  rod,  and  put  him  through  a 
severe  course  of  discipline  for  these  offenses  ;  after  which 
he  grew  more  careful,  —  but  still  the  unaccountable  fascina 
tion  seemed  to  continue ;  still  he  would  lie  in  ambush,  and, 
though  forbidden  to  bark,  would  dart  stealthily  forward 
when  he  saw  her  preparing  to  rise,  and  be  under  her  dress 
smelling  in  a  suspicious  manner  at  her  heels.  He  would 
spring  from  his  place  at  the  fire,  and  rush  to  the  staircase 
when  he  heard  her  leisurely  step  descending  the  stairs,  and 
once  or  twice  nearly  overset  her  by  being  under  her  heels, 
bringing  on  himself  a  chastisement  which  he  in  vain  sought 
to  avert  by  the  most  vigorous  deprecatory  pawing. 

Grandmamma's  favorite  evening  employment  was  to  sit 
sleeping  in  her  chair,  gradually  bobbing  her  head  lower 
and  lower,  —  all  which  movements  Wix  would  watch,  giving 
a  short  snap,  or  a  suppressed  growl,  at  every  bow.  What 
he  would  have  done  if,  as  John  Bunyan  says,  he  had  been 
allowed  to  have  his  "  doggish  way  "  with  her,  it  is  impos 
sible  to  say.  Once  he  succeeded  in  seizing  the  slipper 
from  her  foot  as  she  sat  napping,  and  a  glorious  race  he 
had  with  it,  —  out  at  the  front  door,  up  the  path  to  the 
Theological  Seminary,  and  round  and  round  the  halls  con 
secrated  to  better  things,  with  all  the  glee  of  an  imp.  At 
another  time  he  made  a  dart  into  her  apartment,  and  seized 
a  turkey-wing  which  the  good  old  lady  had  used  for  a 
duster,  and  made  such  a  regular  forenoon's  work  of  worry 
ing,  shaking,  and  teasing  it,  that  every  feather  in  it  was 
utterly  demolished. 

In  fact,  there  was  about  Wix  something  so  elfish  and 
impish,  that  there  began  to  be  shrewd  suspicions  that  he 
must  be  somehow  or  other  a  descendant  of  the  celebrated 


100  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

poodle  of  Faust,  and  that  one  need  not  be  surprised  some 
day  to  have  him  suddenly  looming  up  into  some  uncanny 
shape,  or  entering  into  conversation,  and  uttering  all  sorts 
of  improprieties  unbefitting  a  theological  professor's  family. 

He  had  a  persistence  in  wicked  ways  that  resisted  the 
most  energetic  nurture  and  admonition  of  his  young  mis 
tress.  His  combativeness  was  such,  that  a  peaceable  walk 
down  the  fashionable  street  of  Zion  Hill  in  his  company 
became  impossible  ;  all  was  race  and  scurry,  cackle  and 
nutter,  wherever  he  appeared,  —  hens  and  poultry  flying, 
frightened  cats  mounting  trees  with  magnified  tails,  dogs 
yelping  and  snarling,  and  children  and  cows  running  in 
every  direction.  No  modest  young  lady  could  possibly 
walk  out  in  company  with  such  a  son  of  confusion.  Be 
side  this,  Wix  had  his  own  private  inexplicable  personal 
piques  against  different  visitors  in  the  family,  and  in  the 
most  unexpected  moment  would  give  a  snap  or  a  nip  to 
the  most  unoffending  person.  His  friends  in  the  family 
circle  dropped  off.  His  ways  were  pronounced  too  bad, 
his  conduct  perfectly  indefensible ;  his  young  mistress 
alone  clung  to  him,  and  declared  that  her  vigorous  system 
of  education  would  at  last  reform  his  eccentricities,  and 
turn  him  out  a  tip-top  dog.  But  when  he  would  slyly 
leave  home,  and,  after  rolling  and  steeping  himself  in  the 
ill-smelling  deposits  of  the  stable  or  drain,  come  home  and 
spring  with  impudent  ease  into  her  lap,  or  put  himself  to 
sleep  on  her  little  white  bed,  the  magic  cords  of  affection 
gave  out,  and  disgust  began  to  succeed.  It  began  to  be 
remarked  that  this  was  a  stable-dog,  educated  for  the  coach- 
boy  and  stable,  and  to  be  doubted  whether  it  was  worth 
while  to  endeavor  to  raise  him  to  a  lady's  boudoir ;  and  so 
at  last,  when  the  family  removed  from  Zion  Hill,  he  was 
taken  back  and  disposed  of  at  a  somewhat  reduced  price. 

Since  then,  as  we  are  informed,  he  has  risen  to  fame 
and  honor.  His  name  has  even  appeared  in  sporting  ga- 


OUR  DOGS 


zettes  as  the  most  celebrated  "  ratter  "  in  little  Boston,  and 
his  mistress  was  solemnly  assured  by  his  present  possessor 
that  for  "  cat  work  "  he  was  unequaled,  and  that  he  would 
not  take  fifty  dollars  for  him.  From  all  which  it  appears 
that  a  dog  which  is  only  a  torment  and  a  nuisance  in  one 
sphere  may  be  an  eminent  character  in  another. 

The  catalogue  of  our  dogs  ends  with  Wix.  Whether  we 
shall  ever  have  another  or  not  we  cannot  tell,  but  in  the 
following  pages  I  will  tell  my  young  readers  a  few  true 
stories  of  other  domestic  pets  which  may  amuse  them. 


DOGS  AND  CATS 

AND  now,  with  all  and  each,  of  the  young  friends  who 
have  read  these  little  histories  of  our  dogs,  we  want  to  have 
a  few  moments  of  quiet  chat  about  dogs  and  household  pets 
in  general. 

In  these  stories  you  must  have  noticed  that  each  dog  had 
as  much  his  own  character  as  if  he  had  been  a  human  be 
ing.  Carlo  was  not  like  Rover,  nor  Rover  like  Giglio,  nor 
Giglio  like  Florence,  nor  Florence  like  Rag,  nor  Rag  like 
Wix,  —  any  more  than  Charley  is  like  Fred,  or  Fred  like 
Henry,  or  Henry  like  Eliza,  or  Eliza  like  Julia.  Every 
animal  has  his  own  character,  as  marked  and  distinct  as  a 
human  being.  Many  people  who  have  not  studied  much 
into  the  habits  of  animals  don't  know  this.  To  them  a 
dog  is  a  dog,  a  cat  a  cat,  a  horse  a  horse,  and  no  more,  — 
that  is  the  end  of  it. 

But  domestic  animals  that  associate  with  human  beings 
develop  a  very  different  character  from  what  they  would 
possess  in  a  wild  state.  Dogs,  for  example,  in  those  coun 
tries  where  there  is  a  prejudice  against  receiving  them  into 
man's  association,  herd  together,  and  become  wild  and 
fierce  like  wolves.  This  is  the  case  in  many  Oriental  coun 
tries,  where  there  are  superstitious  ideas  about  dogs  ;  as, 
for  instance,  that  they  are  unclean  and  impure.  But  in 
other  countries  the  dog,  for  the  most  part,  forsakes  all 
other  dogs  to  become  the  associate  of  man.  A  dog  without 
a  master  is  a  forlorn  creature  ;  no  society  of  other  dogs 
seems  to  console  him  ;  he  wanders  about  disconsolate,  till 
he  finds  some  human  being  to  whom  to  attach  himself,  and 


DOGS   AND   CATS  103 

then  he  is  a  made  dog,  —  he  pads  about  with  an  air  of  dig 
nity,  like  a  dog  that  is  settled  in  life. 

There  are  among  dogs  certain  races  or  large  divisions,  and 
those  belonging  purely  to  any  of  those  races  are  called 
blood-dogs.  As  examples  of  what  we  mean  by  these  races, 
we  will  mention  the  spaniel,  the  mastiff,  the  bulldog,  the 
hound,  and  the  terrier  ;  and  each  of  these  divisions  contains 
many  species,  and  each  has  a  strongly  marked  character. 
The  spaniel  tribes  are  gentle,  docile,  easily  attached  to  man ; 
from  them  many  hunting  dogs  are  trained.  The  bulldog 
is  irritable,  a  terrible  fighter,  and  fiercely  faithful  to  his 
master.  A  mastiff  is  strong,  large,  not  as  fierce  as  the  bull 
dog,  but  watchful  and  courageous,  with  a  peculiar  sense  of 
responsibility  in  guarding  anything  which  is  placed  under 
his  charge.  The  hounds  are  slender,  lean,  wiry,  with  a 
long,  pointed  muzzle,  and  a  peculiar  sensibility  in  the  sense 
of  smell,  and  their  instincts  lead  them  to  hunting  and 
tracking.  As  a  general  thing,  they  are  cowardly  and  in 
disposed  to  combat ;  there  are,  however,  remarkable  excep 
tions,  as  you  will  see  if  you  read  the  account  of  the 
good  black  hound  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  tells  about  in 
"  The  Talisman,"  —  a  story  which  I  advise  you  to  read  at 
your  next  leisure.  The  terriers  are,  for  the  most  part, 
small  dogs,  smart,  bright,  and  active,  very  intelligent,  and 
capable  of  being  taught  many  tricks.  Of  these  there  are 
several  varieties,  —  as  the  English  black  and  tan,  which  is 
the  neatest  and  prettiest  pet  a  family  of  children  can  have, 
as  his  hair  is  so  short  and  close  that  he  can  harbor  no  fleas, 
and  he  is  always  good-tempered,  lively,  and  affectionate. 
The  Skye  terrier,  with  his  mouse-colored  mop  of  hair,  and 
his  great  bright  eyes,  is  very  loving  and  very  sagacious  ; 
but  alas  !  unless  you  can  afford  a  great  deal  of  time  for 
soap,  water,  and  fine-tooth-comb  exercises,  he  will  bring 
more  company  than  you  will  like.  The  Scotch  terriers  are 
rough,  scraggy,  affectionate,  but  so  nervous,  frisky,  and 


104  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

mischievous  that  they  are  only  to  be  recommended  as  out 
door  pets  in  barn  and  stable.  They  are  capital  rat-catchers, 
very  amicable  with  horses,  and  will  sit  up  by  the  driver  or 
a  coach-boy  with  an  air  of  great  sagacity. 

There  is  something  very  curious  about  the  habits  and  in 
stincts  of  certain  dogs  which  have  been  trained  by  man  for 
his  own  purposes.  In  the  mountains  of  Scotland,  there  is 
a  tribe  of  dogs  called  shepherd-dogs,  which  for  generations 
and  ages  have  helped  the  shepherds  to  take  care  of  their 
sheep,  and  which  look  for  all  the  world  like  long-nosed,  high- 
cheek-boned,  careful  old  Scotchmen.  You  will  see  them  in 
the  morning,  trotting  out  their  flock  of  sheep,  walking 
about  with  a  grave,  care-taking  air,  and  at  evening  all  bustle 
and  importance,  hurrying  and  scurrying  hither  and  thither, 
getting  their  charge  all  together  for  the  night.  An  old 
Scotchman  tells  us  that  his  dog  Hector,  by  long  sharing  his 
toils  and  cares,  got  to  looking  so  much  like  him,  that  once, 
when  he  felt  too  sleepy  to  go  to  meeting,  he  sent  Hector  to 
take  his  seat  in  the  pew,  and  the  minister  never  knew  the 
difference,  but  complimented  him  the  next  day  for  his  good 
attention  to  the  sermon. 

There  is  a  kind  of  dog  employed  by  the  monks  of  St. 
Bernard  in  the  Alps,  to  go  out  and  seek  in  the  snow  for 
travelers  who  may  have  lost  their  way  ;  and  this  habit  be 
comes  such  a  strong  instinct  in  them,  that  I  once  knew  a 
puppy  of  this  species  which  was  brought  by  a  shipmaster  to 
Maine,  and  grew  up  in  a  steady  New  England  town,  which 
used  to  alarm  his  kind  friends  by  rushing  off  into  the  pine 
forest  in  snow-storms,  and  running  anxiously  up  and  down, 
burrowing  in  the  snow  as  if  in  quest  of  something. 

I  have  seen  one  of  a  remarkable  breed  of  dogs  that  are 
brought  from  the  island  of  Manilla.  They  resemble  mastiffs 
in  their  form,  but  are  immensely  large  and  strong.  They 
are  trained  to  detect  thieves,  and  kept  by  merchants  on 
board  of  vessels  where  the  natives  are  very  sly  and  much 


DOGS  AND   CATS  105 

given  to  stealing.  They  are  called  holders,  and  their  way 
is,  when  a  strange  man,  whose  purposes  they  do  not  under 
stand,  comes  on  board  the  ship,  to  take  a  very  gentle  but 
decisive  hold  of  him  by  the  heel,  and  keep  him  fast  until 
somebody  comes  to  look  after  him.  The  dog  I  knew  of 
this  species  stood  about  as  high  as  an  ordinary  dining-table, 
and  I  have  seen  him  stroke  off  the  dinner-cloth  with  one 
wag  of  his  tail  in  his  pleasure  when  I  patted  his  head. 
He  was  very  intelligent  and  affectionate. 

There  is  another  dog,  which  may  often  be  seen  in  Paris, 
called  the  Spitz  dog.  He  is  a  white,  smooth-haired,  small 
creature,  with  a  great  muff  of  stiff  hair  round  his  neck,  and 
generally  comes  into  Paris  riding  horseback  on  the  cart-horses 
which  draw  the  carts  of  the  washerwomen.  He  races  nim 
bly  up  and  down  on  the  back  of  the  great  heavy  horses,  bark 
ing  from  right  to  left  with  great  animation,  and  is  said  to 
be  a  most  faithful  little  creature  in  guarding  the  property 
of  his  owner.  What  is  peculiar  about  these  little  dogs  is 
the  entireness  of  their  devotion  to  their  master.  They  have 
not  a  look,  not  a  wag  of  the  tail,  for  any  one  else  ;  it  is  vain 
for  a  stranger  to  try  and  make  friends  with  them,  —  they 
have  eyes  and  ears  for  one  alone. 

All  dogs  which  do  not  belong  to  some  of  the  great  vari 
eties,  on  the  one  side  of  their  parentage  or  the  other,  are 
classed  together  as  curs,  and  very  much  undervalued  and 
decried ;  and  yet  among  these  mongrel  curs  we  have  seen 
individuals  quite  as  sagacious,  intelligent,  and  affectionate 
as  the  best  blood-dogs. 

And  now  I  want  to  say  some  things  to  those  young 
people  who  desire  to  adopt  as  domestic  pets  either  a  dog  or 
a  cat.  Don't  do  it  without  making  up  your  mind  to  be 
really  and  thoroughly  kind  to  them,  and  feeding  them  as 
carefully  as  you  feed  yourself,  and  giving  them  appropriate 
shelter  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather. 

Some  people  seem  to  have  a  general  idea  that  throwing 


106  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

a  scrap,  or  bone,  or  bit  of  refuse  meat,  at  odd  intervals,  to 
a  dog,  is  taking  abundant  care  of  him.  "  What 's  the 
matter  with  him  ?  he  can't  be  hungry,  —  I  gave  him  that 
great  bone  yesterday."  Ah,  Master  Hopeful,  how  would  you 
like  to  be  fed  on  the  same  principle  ?  When  you  show 
your  hungry  face  at  the  dinner-table,  suppose  papa  should 
say,  "  What 's  that  boy  here  for  ?  He  was  fed  this  morn 
ing."  You  would  think  this  hard  measure  ;  yet  a  dog's  or 
cat's  stomach  digests  as  rapidly  as  yours.  In  like  manner, 
dogs  are  often  shut  out  of  the  house  in  cold  winter  weather 
without  the  least  protection  being  furnished  them.  A  lady 
and  I  looked  out  once,  in  a  freezing  icy  day,  and  saw  a 
great  Newfoundland  cowering  in  a  corner  of  a  fence  to  keep 
from  the  driving  wind  ;  and  I  said,  "  Do  tell  me  if  you 
have  no  kennel  for  that  poor  creature."  "  No,"  said  the 
lady.  "  I  did  n't  know  that  dogs  needed  shelter.  Now  I 
think  of  it,  I  remember  last  spring  he  seemed  quite  poorly, 
and  his  hair  seemed  to  come  out  j  do  you  suppose  it  was 
being  exposed  so  much  in  the  winter  ?  "  This  lady  had 
taken  into  her  family  a  living  creature,  without  ever  having 
reflected  on  what  that  creature  needed,  or  that  it  was  her 
duty  to  provide  for  its  wants. 

Dogs  can  bear  more  cold  than  human  beings,  but  they 
do  not  like  cold  any  better  than  we  do  ;  and  when  a  dog 
has  his  choice,  he  will  very  gladly  stretch  himself  on  a  rug 
before  the  fire  for  his  afternoon  nap,  and  show  that  he 
enjoys  the  blaze  and  warmth  as  much  as  anybody. 

As  to  cats,  many  people  seem  to  think  that  a  miserable, 
half-starved  beast,  never  fed,  and  always  hunted  and  beaten, 
and  with  no  rights  that  anybody  is  bound  to  respect,  is  a 
necessary  appendage  to  a  family.  They  have  the  idea  that 
all  a  cat  is  good  for  is  to  catch  rats,  and  that  if  well  fed 
they  will  not  do  this,  —  and  so  they  starve  them.  This  is 
a  mistake  in  fact.  Cats  are  hunting  animals,  and  have  the 
natural  instinct  to  pursue  and  catch  prey,  and  a  cat  that  is 


DOGS   AND   CATS  107 

a  good  mouser  will  do  this  whether  well  or  ill  fed.  To  live 
only  upon  rats  is  said  to  injure  the  health  of  the  cat,  and 
bring  on  convulsions. 

The  most  beautiful  and  best  trained  cat  I  ever  knew  was 
named  Juno,  and  was  brought  up  by  a  lady  who  was  so 
wise  in  all  that  related  to  the  care  and  management  of 
animals  that  she  might  be  quoted  as  authority  on  all 
points  of  their  nurture  and  breeding ;  and  Juno,  carefully 
trained  by  such  a  mistress,  was  a  standing  example  of  the 
virtues  which  may  be  formed  in  a  cat  by  careful  education. 

Never  was  Juno  known  to  be  out  of  place,  to  take  her 
nap  elsewhere  than  on  her  own  appointed  cushion,  to  be 
absent  at  meal-times,  or,  when  the  most  tempting  dainties 
were  in  her  power,  to  anticipate  the  proper  time  by  jump 
ing  on  the  table  to  help  herself. 

In  all  her  personal  habits  Juno  was  of  a  neatness  unpar 
alleled  in  cat  history.  The  parlor  of  her  mistress  was 
always  of  a  waxen  and  spotless  cleanness,  and  Juno  would 
have  died  sooner  than  violate  its  sanctity  by  any  impro 
priety.  She  was  a  skilful  mouser,  and  her  sleek,  glossy 
sides  were  a  sufficient  refutation  of  the  absurd  notion  that 
a  cat  must  be  starved  into  a  display  of  her  accomplishments. 
Every  rat,  mouse,  or  ground-mole  that  she  caught  was 
brought  in  and  laid  at  the  feet  of  her  mistress  for  approba 
tion.  But  on  one  point  her  mind  was  dark.  She  could 
never  be  made  to  comprehend  the  great  difference  between 
fur  and  feathers,  nor  see  why  her  mistress  should  gravely 
reprove  her  when  she  brought  in  a  bird,  and  warmly  com 
mend  when  she  captured  a  mouse. 

After  a  while  a  little  dog  named  Pero,  with  whom  Juno 
had  struck  up  a  friendship,  got  into  the  habit  of  coming  to 
her  mistress's  apartment  at  the  hours  when  her  modest 
meals  were  served,  on  which  occasions  Pero  thought  it 
would  be  a  good  idea  to  invite  himself  to  make  a  third. 
He  had  a  nice  little  trick  of  making  himself  amiable,  by 


108  QUEER   LITTLE   PEOPLE 

sitting  up  on  his  haunches,  and  making  little  begging  ges 
tures  with  his  two  fore-paws,  —  which  so  much  pleased  his 
hostess  that  sometimes  he  was  fed  before  Juno.  Juno  ob 
served  this  in  silence  for  some  time  ;  but  at  last  a  bright 
idea  struck  her,  and,  gravely  rearing  up  on  her  haunches, 
she  imitated  Pero's  gestures  with  her  fore-paws.  Of  course 
this  carried  the  day,  and  secured  her  position. 

Cats  are  often  said  to  have  no  heart,  —  to  be  attached 
to  places,  but  incapable  of  warm  personal  affection.  It  was 
reserved  for  Juno  by  her  sad  end  to  refute  this  slander  on 
her  race.  Her  mistress  was  obliged  to  leave  her  quiet  home, 
and  go  to  live  in  a  neighboring  city  ;  so  she  gave  Juno  to 
the  good  lady  who  inhabited  the  other  part  of  the  house. 

But  no  attentions  or  care  on  the  part  of  her  new  mistress 
could  banish  from  Juno's  mind  the  friend  she  had  lost. 
The  neat  little  parlor  where  she  had  spent  so  many  pleasant 
hours  was  dismantled  and  locked  up,  but  Juno  would  go, 
day  after  day,  and  sit  on  the  ledge  of  the  window-seat, 
looking  in  and  mewing  dolefully.  She  refused  food  ;  and, 
when  too  weak  to  mount  on  the  sill  and  look  in,  stretched  her 
self  on  the  ground  beneath  the  window,  where  she  died  for 
love  of  her  mistress,  as  truly  as  any  lover  in  an  old  ballad. 

You  see  by  this  story  the  moral  that  I  wish  to  convey. 
It  is,  that  watchfulness,  kindness,  and  care  will  develop  a 
nature  in  animals  such  as  we  little  dream  of.  Love  will 
beget  love,  regular  care  and  attention  will  give  regular 
habits,  and  thus  domestic  pets  may  be  made  agreeable  and 
interesting. 

Any  one  who  does  not  feel  an  inclination  or  capacity  to 
take  the  amount  of  care  and  pains  necessary  for  the  well- 
being  of  an  animal  ought  conscientiously  to  abstain  from 
having  one  in  charge.  A  carefully  tended  pet,  whether  dog 
or  cat,  is  a  pleasant  addition  to  a  family  of  young  people  ; 
but  a  neglected,  ill-brought-up,  ill-kept  one  is  only  an  an 
noyance. 


DOGS   AND   CATS  109 

We  should  remember,  too,  in  all  our  dealings  with  ani 
mals,  that  they  are  a  sacred  trust  to  us  from  our  Heavenly 
Father.  They  are  dumb,  and  cannot  speak  for  themselves ; 
they  cannot  explain  their  wants  or  justify  their  conduct; 
and  therefore  we  should  be  tender  towards  them. 

Our  Lord  says  not  even  a  little  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground 
without  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  we  may  believe  that  his 
eye  takes  heed  of  the  disposition  which  we  show  towards 
those  defenseless  beings  whom  he  thinks  worthy  of  his  pro 
tection. 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  EULES 

IN  the  last  number  I  told  my  little  friends  about  my 
good  Aunt  Esther,  and  her  wonderful  cat  Juno,  and  her 
dog  Pero.  In  thinking  what  to  write  for  this  month  my 
mind  goes  far  back  to  the  days  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  and 
used  to  spend  many  happy  hours  in  Aunt  Esther's  parlor 
talking  with  her.  Her  favorite  subject  was  always  the 
habits  and  character  of  different  animals,  and  their  various 
ways  and  instincts,  and  she  used  to  tell  us  so  many  wonder 
ful,  yet  perfectly  authentic,  stories  about  all  these  things, 
that  the  hours  passed  away  very  quickly. 

Some  of  her  rules  for  the  treatment  and  care  of  animals 
have  impressed  themselves  so  distinctly  on  my  mind,  that 
I  shall  never  forget  them,  and  I  am  going  to  repeat  some  of 
them  to  you. 

One  was,  never  to  frighten  an  animal  for  sport.  I  recol 
lect  I  had  a  little  white  kitten,  of  which  I  was  very  fond, 
and  one  day  I  was  amusing  myself  with  making  her  walk 
up  and  down  the  key-board  of  the  piano,  and  laughing  to 
see  her  fright  at  the  strange  noises  which  came  up  under 
her  feet.  Puss  evidently  thought  the  place  was  haunted, 
and  tried  to  escape ;  it  never  occurred  to  me,  however,  that 
there  was  any  cruelty  in  the  operation,  till  Aunt  Esther 
said  to  me,  "  My  dear,  you  must  never  frighten  an  animal. 
I  have  suffered  enough  from  fear  to  know  that  there  is  no 
suffering  more  dreadful ;  and  a  helpless  animal,  that  cannot 
speak  to  tell  its  fright,  and  cannot  understand  an  explana 
tion  of  what  alarms  it,  ought  to  move  your  pity." 

I  had  never  thought  of  this  before,  and  then  I  remem- 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  RULES  111 

bered  how,  when  I  was  a  very,  very  little  girl,  a  grown-up 
boy  in  school  had  amused  himself  with  me  and  my  little 
brother  in  much  the  same  way  as  that  in  which  I  had 
amused  myself  with  the  kitten.  He  hunted  us  under  one 
of  the  school-room  tables  by  threatening  to  cut  our  ears 
off  if  we  came  out,  and  took  out  his  pen-knife,  and  opened 
it,  and  shook  it  at  us  whenever  we  offered  to  move.  Very 
likely  he  had  not  the  least  idea  that  we  really  could  be 
made  to  suffer  with  fear  at  so  absurd  a  threat,  —  any  more 
than  I  had  that  my  kitten  could  possibly  be  afraid  of  the 
piano ;  but  our  suffering  was  in  fact  as  real  as  if  the  boy 
really  had  intended  what  he  said,  and  was  really  able  to 
execute  it. 

Another  thing  which  Aunt  Esther  strongly  impressed  on 
my  mind  was  that,  when  there  were  domestic  animals 
about  a  house  which  were  not  wanted  in  a  family,  it  was  far 
'kinder  to  have  them  killed  in  some  quick  and  certain  way 
than  to  chase  them  out  of  the  house,  and  leave  them  to 
wander  homeless,  to  be  starved,  beaten,  and  abused.  Aunt 
Esther  was  a  great  advocate  for  killing  animals,  and,  tender 
hearted  as  she  was,  she  gave  us  many  instructions  in  the 
kindest  and  quickest  way  of  disposing  of  one  whose  life 
must  be  sacrificed. 

Her  instructions  sometimes  bore  most  remarkable  fruits. 
I  recollect  one  little  girl,  who  had  been  trained  under  Aunt 
Esther's  care,  was  once  coming  home  from  school  across 
Boston  Common,  when  she  saw  a  party  of  noisy  boys  and 
dogs  tormenting  a  poor  kitten  by  the  side  of  the  frog  pond. 
The  little  wretches  would  throw  it  into  the  water,  and  then 
laugh  at  its  vain  and  frightened  efforts  to  paddle  out,  while 
the  dogs  added  to  its  fright  by  their  ferocious  barking. 
Belle  was  a  bright-eyed,  spirited  little  puss,  and  her  whole 
soul  was  roused  in  indignation  ;  she  dashed  in  among  the 
throng  of  boys  and  dogs,  and  rescued  the  poor  half-drowned 
little  animal.  The  boys,  ashamed,  slunk  away,  and  little 


112  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

Belle  held  the  poor,  cold,  shivering  little  creature,  consider 
ing  what  to  do  for  it.  It  was  half  dead  already,  and  she 
was  embarrassed  by  the  reflection  that  at  home  there  was 
no  room  for  another  pet,  for  both  cat  and  kitten  never 
were  wanting  in  their  family.  "  Poor  kit,'7  she  said,  "  you 
must  die,  but  I  will  see  that  you  are  not  tormented  ;  "  — 
and  she  knelt  bravely  down  and  held  the  little  thing  under 
water,  with  the  tears  running  down  her  own  cheeks,  till  all 
its  earthly  sorrows  were  over,  and  little  kit  was  beyond  the 
reach  of  dog  or  boy. 

This  was  real  brave  humanity.  Many  people  call  them 
selves  tender-hearted,  because  they  are  unwilling  to  have  a 
litter  of  kittens  killed,  and  so  they  go  and  throw  them  over 
fences,  into  people's  back  yards,  and  comfort  themselves 
with  the  reflection  that  they  will  do  well  enough.  What 
becomes  of  the  poor  little  defenseless  things  ?  In  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  they  live  a  hunted,  miserable  life,  crying 
from  hunger,  shivering  with  cold,  harassed  by  cruel  dogs, 
and  tortured  to  make  sport  for  brutal  boys.  How  much 
kinder  and  more  really  humane  to  take  upon  ourselves  the 
momentary  suffering  of  causing  the  death  of  an  animal  than 
to  turn  our  back  and  leave  it  to  drag  out  a  life  of  torture 
and  misery ! 

Aunt  Esther  used  to  protest  much  against  another  kind 
of  torture  which  well-meaning  persons  inflict  on  animals,  in 
giving  them  as  playthings  to  very  little  children  who  do 
not  know  how  to  handle  them.  A  mother  sometimes  will 
sit  quietly  sewing,  while  her  baby  boy  is  tormenting  a  help 
less  kitten,  poking  his  fingers  into  its  eyes,  pulling  its  tail, 
stretching  it  out  as  on  a  rack,  squeezing  its  feet,  and,  when 
the  poor  little  tormented  thing  tries  to  run  away,  will  send 
the  nurse  to  catch  dear  little  Johnny's  kitten  for  him. 

Aunt  Esther  always  remonstrated,  too,  against  all  the 
practical  jokes  and  teasing  of  animals,  which  many  people 
practice  under  the  name  of  sport,  —  like  throwing  a  dog 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  RULES  113 

into  the  water  for  the  sake  of  seeing  him  paddle  out,  dash 
ing  water  upon  the  cat,  or  doing  any  of  the  many  little 
tricks  by  which  animals  are  made  uncomfortable.  "  They 
have  but  one  short  little  life  to  live,  they  are  dumb  and 
cannot  complain,  and  they  are  wholly  in  our  power "  — 
these  were  the  motives  by  which  she  appealed  to  our  gen 
erosity. 

Aunt  Esther's  boys  were  so  well  trained  that  they  would 
fight  valiantly  for  the  rescue  of  any  ill-treated  animals. 
Little  Master  Bill  was  a  bright-eyed  fellow,  who  was  n't 
much  taller  than  his  father's  knee,  and  wore  a  low-necked 
dress  with  white  ruffles.  But  Bill  had  a  brave  heart  in  his 
little  body,  and  so  one  day,  as  he  was  coming  from  school, 
he  dashed  in  among  a  crowd  of  dogs  which  were  pursuing  a 
kitten,  took  it  away  from  them,  and  held  it  as  high  above 
his  head  as  his  little  arm  could  reach.  The  dogs  jumped 
upon  his  white  neck  with  their  rough  paws,  and  scratched 
his  face,  but  still  he  stood  steady  till  a  man  came  up  and 
took  the  kitten  and  frightened  away  the  dogs.  Master  Bill 
grew  up  to  be  a  man,  and  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg  stood 
a  three  days'  fight,  and  resisted  the  charge  of  the  Louisiana 
Tigers  as  of  old  he  withstood  the  charge  of  the  dogs.  A 
really  brave-hearted  fellow  is  generally  tender  and  compas 
sionate  to  the  weak ;  only  cowards  torment  that  which  is 
not  strong  enough  to  fight  them ;  only  cowards  starve  help 
less  prisoners  or  torture  helpless  animals. 

I  can't  help  hoping  that,  in  these  stories  about  different 
pets,  I  have  made  some  friends  among  the  boys,  and  that 
they  will  remember  what  I  have  said,  and  resolve  always 
to  defend  the  weak,  and  not  permit  any  cruelty  where  it  is 
in  their  power  to  prevent  it.  Boys,  you  are  strong  and 
brave  little  fellows ;  but  you  ought  n't  to  be  strong  and 
brave  for  nothing ;  and  if  every  boy  about  the  street  would 
set  himself  to  defending  helpless  animals,  we  should  see 
much  less  cruelty  than  we  now  do. 


AUNT   ESTHER'S   STOEIES 

AUNT  ESTHER  used  to  be  a  constant  attendant  upon  us 
young  ones  whenever  we  were  a  little  ill,  or  any  of  the 
numerous  accidents  of  childhood  overtook  us.  In  such 
seasons  of  adversity  she  always  came  to  sit  by  our  bedside, 
and  take  care  of  us.  She  did  not,  as  some  people  do,  bring 
a  long  face  and  a  doleful  whining  voice  into  a  sick-room, 
but  was  always  so  bright,  and  cheerful,  and  chatty,  that  we 
began  to  think  it  was  almost  worth  while  to  be  sick  to  have 
her  about  us.  I  remember  that  once,  when  I  had  the  quinsy, 
and  my  throat  was  so  swollen  that  it  brought  the  tears  every 
time  I  swallowed,  Aunt  Esther  talked  to  me  so  gayly,  and 
told  me  so  many  stories,  that  I  found  myself  laughing 
heartily,  and  disposed  to  regard  my  aching  throat  as  on  the 
whole  rather  an  amusing  circumstance. 

Aunt  Esther's  stories  were  not  generally  fairy  tales,  but 
stories  about  real  things,  —  and  more  often  on  her  favorite 
subject  of  the  habits  of  animals,  and  the  different  animals 
she  had  known,  than  about  anything  else. 

One  of  these  was  a  famous  Newfoundland  dog,  named 
Prince,  which  belonged  to  an  uncle  of  hers  in  the  country, 
and  was,  as  we  thought,  a  far  more  useful  and  faithful 
member  of  society  than  many  of  us  youngsters.  Prince 
used  to  be  a  grave,  sedate  dog,  that  considered  himself  put 
in  trust  of  the  farm,  the  house,  the  cattle,  and  all  that  was 
on  the  place.  At  night  he  slept  before  the  kitchen  door, 
which,  like  all  other  doors  in  the  house  in  those  innocent 
days,  was  left  unlocked  all  night ;  and  if  such  a  thing  had 
ever  happened  as  that  a  tramp  or  an  improper  person  of 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES  115 

any  kind  had  even  touched  the  latch  of  the  door,  Prince 
would  have  been  up  attending  to  him  as  master  of  cere 
monies. 

At  early  dawn,  when  the  family  began  to  stir,  Prince 
was  up  and  out  to  superintend  the  milking  of  the  cows, 
after  which  he  gathered  them  all  together,  and  started  out 
with  them  to  pasture,  padding  steadily  along  behind,  dash 
ing  out  once  in  a  while  to  reclaim  some  wanderer  that 
thoughtlessly  began  to  make  her  breakfast  by  the  roadside, 
instead  of  saving  her  appetite  for  the  pastures,  as  a  prop 
erly  behaved  cow  should.  Arrived  at  the  pasture-lot, 
Prince  would  take  down  the  bars  with  his  teeth,  drive  in 
the  cows,  put  up  bars,  and  then  soberly  turn  tail  and  pad 
off  home,  and  carry  the  dinner-basket  for  the  men  to  the 
mowing  lot,  or  the  potato-field,  or  wherever  the  labors  of 
the  day  might  be.  There  arrived,  he  was  extremely  useful 
to  send  on  errands  after  anything  forgotten  or  missing. 
"  Prince !  the  rake  is  missing  :  go  to  the  barn  and  fetch 
it !  "  and  away  Prince  would  go,  and  come  back  with  his 
head  very  high,  and  the  long  rake  very  judiciously  bal 
anced  in  his  mouth. 

One  day  a  friend  was  wondering  at  the  sagacity  of  the 
dog,  and  his  master  thought  he  would  show  off  his  tricks 
in  a  still  more  original  style  ;  and  so,  calling  Prince  to 
him,  he  said,  "  Go  home  and  bring  Puss  to  me  ! " 

Away  bounded  Prince  towards  the  farm-house,  and,  look 
ing  about,  found  the  younger  of  the  two  cats,  fair  Mistress 
Daisy,  busy  cleaning  her  white  velvet  in  the  summer  sun. 
Prince  took  her  gently  up  by  the  nape  of  her  neck,  and 
carried  her,  hanging  head  and  heels  together,  to  the  fields, 
and  laid  her  down  at  his  master's  feet. 

"  How  's  this,  Prince  ?  "  said  the  master ;  "  you  did  n't 
understand  me.  I  said  the  cat,  and  this  is  the  kitten.  Go 
right  back  and  bring  the  old  cat." 

Prince  looked  very  much  ashamed  of  his  mistake,  and 


116  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

turned  away,  with,  drooping  ears  and  tail,  and  went  back 
to  the  house. 

The  old  cat  was  a  venerable,  somewhat  portly  old  dame, 
and  no  small  lift  for  Prince ;  but  he  reappeared  with  old 
Puss  hanging  from  his  jaws,  and  set  her  down,  a  little  dis 
composed,  but  not  a  whit  hurt  by  her  unexpected  ride. 

Sometimes,  to  try  Prince's  skill,  his  master  would  hide 
his  gloves  or  riding-whip  in  some  out-of-the-way  corner 
and  when  ready  to  start,  would  say,  "  Now,  where  have  I 
left  my  gloves  ?  Prince,  good  fellow,  run  in,  and  find 
them  ; "  and  Prince  would  dash  into  the  house,  and  run 
hither  and  thither  with  his  nose  to  every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  room ;  and,  no  matter  how  artfully  they  were  hid, 
he  would  upset  and  tear  his  way  to  them.  He  would  turn 
up  the  corners  of  the  carpet,  snuff  about  the  bed,  run  his 
nose  between  the  feather-bed  and  mattress,  pry  into  the 
crack  of  a  half-opened  drawer,  and  show  as  much  zeal  and 
ingenuity  as  a  policeman,  and  seldom  could  anything  be  so 
hid  as  to  baffle  his  perseverance. 

Many  people  laugh  at  the  idea  of  being  careful  of  a 
dog's  feelings,  as  if  it  were  the  height  of  absurdity ;  and 
yet  it  is  a  fact  that  some  dogs  are  as  exquisitely  sensitive 
to  pain,  shame,  and  mortification,  as  any  human  being. 
See,  when  a  dog  is  spoken  harshly  to,  what  a  universal 
droop  seems  to  come  over  him.  His  head  and  ears  sink, 
his  tail  drops  and  slinks  between  his  legs,  and  his  whole 
air  seems  to  say,  "  I  wish  I  could  sink  into  the  earth  to 
hide  myself." 

Prince's  young  master,  without  knowing  it,  was  the 
means  of  inflicting  a  most  terrible  mortification  on  him  at 
one  time.  It  was  very  hot  weather,  and  Prince,  being  a 
shaggy  dog,  lay  panting,  and  lolling  his  tongue  out,  appar 
ently  suffering  from  the  heat. 

"  I  declare,"  said  young  Master  George,  f<  I  do  believe 
Prince  would  be  more  comfortable  for  being  sheared." 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  STOEIES  117 

And  so  forthwith  he  took  him  and  began  divesting  him  of 
his  coat.  Prince  took  it  all  very  obediently  ;  but  when  he 
appeared  without  his  usual  attire,  every  one  saluted  him 
with  roars  of  laughter,  and  Prince  was  dreadfully  mortified. 
He  broke  away  from  his  master,  and  scampered  off  home  at 
a  desperate  pace,  ran  down  cellar,  and  disappeared  from 
view.  His  young  master  was  quite  distressed  that  Prince 
took  the  matter  so  to  heart ;  he  followed  him  in  vain,  call 
ing,  "  Prince  !  Prince  !  "  No  Prince  appeared.  He  lighted 
a  candle  and  searched  the  cellar,  and  found  the  poor  crea 
ture  cowering  away  in  the  darkest  nook  under  the  stairs. 
Prince  was  not  to  be  comforted :  he  slunk  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  darkness,  and  crouched  on  the  ground 
when  he  saw  his  master,  and  for  a  long  time  refused  even 
to  take  food.  The  family  all  visited  and  condoled  with 
him,  and  finally  his  sorrows  were  somewhat  abated;  but 
he  would  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  the  cellar  for  nearly  a 
week.  Perhaps  by  that  time  he  indulged  the  hope  that 
his  hair  was  beginning  to  grow  again,  and  all  were  careful 
not  to  destroy  the  illusion  by  any  jests  or  comments  on 
his  appearance. 

Such  were  some  of  the  stories  of  Prince's  talents  and  ex 
ploits  which  Aunt  Esther  used  to  relate  to  us.  What 
finally  became  of  the  old  fellow  we  never  heard.  Let  us 
hope  that,  as  he  grew  old,  and  gradually  lost  his  strength, 
and  felt  the  infirmities  of  age  creeping  on,  he  was  tenderly 
and  kindly  cared  for  in  memory  of  the  services  of  his  best 
days,  —  that  he  had  a  warm  corner  by  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  was  daily  spoken  to  in  kindly  tones  by  his  /  Id  friends. 
Nothing  is  a  sadder  sight  than  to  see  a  poor  old  favorite, 
that  once  was  petted  and  caressed  by  every  member  of  the 
family,  now  sneaking  and  cowering  as  if  dreading  every 
moment  a  kick  or  a  blow,  —  turned  from  the  parlor  into 
the  kitchen,  driven  from  the  kitchen  by  the  cook's  broom 
stick,  half  starved  and  lonesome. 


118  QUEEK  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

O  how  much  kinder  if  the  poor  thread  of  life  were  at 
once  cut  by  some  pistol-shot,  than  to  have  the  neglected 
favorite  linger  only  to  suffer !  Now,  boys,  I  put  it  to  you, 
is  it  generous  or  manly,  when  your  old  pet  and  playmate 
grows  sickly  and  feeble,  and  can  no  longer  amuse  you,  to 
forget  all  the  good  old  times  you  have  had  with  him,  and 
let  him  become  a  poor,  trembling,  hungry,  abused  vagrant  ? 
If  you  cannot  provide  comforts  for  his  old  age,  and  see  to 
his  nursing,  you  can  at  least  secure  him  an  easy  and  pain 
less  passage  from  this  troublesome  world.  A  manly  fellow 
I  once  knew,  who,  when  his  old  hound  became  so  diseased 
that  he  only  lived  to  suffer,  gave  him  a  nice  meal  with  his 
own  hand,  patted  his  head,  got  him  to  sleep,  and  then  shot 
him,  —  so  that  he  was  dead  in  a  moment,  felt  no  pain,  and 
knew  nothing  but  kindness  to  the  last. 

And  now  to  Aunt  Esther's  stories  of  a  dog  I  must  add 
one  more  which  occurred  in  a  town  where  I  once  lived.  I 
have  told  you  of  the  fine  traits  of  blood-dogs,  their  sagacity 
and  affection.  In  doing  this,  perhaps,  I  have  not  done  half 
justice  to  the  poor  common  dogs,  of  no  particular  blood  or 
breed,  that  are  called  curs  or  mongrels ;  yet  among  these 
I  believe  you  will  quite  as  often  find  both  affection  and 
sagacity  as  among  better-born  dogs. 

The  poor  mongrel  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  belonged 
to  a  man  who  had  not,  in  one  respect,  half  the  sense  that 
his  dog  had.  A  dog  will  never  eat  or  drink  a  thing  that 
has  once  made  him  sick,  or  injured  him ;  but  this  man 
would  drink,  time  and  time  again,  a  deadly  draught,  that 
took  away  his  senses  and  unfitted  him  for  any  of  his  du 
ties.  Poor  little  Pero,  however,  set  her  ignorant  dog's  heart 
on  her  drinking  master,  and  used  to  patter  faithfully  after 
him,  and  lick  his  hand  respectfully,  when  nobody  else 
thought  he  was  in  a  condition  to  be  treated  with  respect. 

One  bitter  cold  winter  day,  Pero's  master  went  to  a  gro 
cery,  at  some  distance  from  home,  on  pretence  of  getting 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  STORIES  119 

groceries,  but  in  reality  to  fill  a  very  dreadful  bottle,  that 
was  the  cause  of  all  his  misery  ;  and  little  Pero  padded 
after  him  through  the  whirling  snow,  although  she  left 
three  poor  little  pups  of  her  own  in  the  barn.  Was  it  that 
she  was  anxious  for  the  poor  man  who  was  going  the  bad 
road,  or  was  there  some  secret  thing  in  her  dog's  heart  that 
warned  her  that  her  master  was  in  danger  ?  We  know 
not,  but  the  sad  fact  is,  that  at  the  grocery  the  poor  man 
took  enough  to  make  his  brain  dizzy,  and  coming  home  he 
lost  his  way  in  a  whirling  snow-storm,  and  fell  down  stupid 
and  drunk,  not  far  from  his  own  barn,  in  a  lonesome  place, 
with  the  cold  winter's  wind  sweeping  the  snow-drift  over 
him.  Poor  little  Pero  cuddled  close  to  her  master  and 
nestled  in  his  bosom,  as  if  trying  to  keep  the  warm  life  in 
him. 

Two  or  three  days  passed,  and  nothing  was  seen  or  heard 
of  the  poor  man.  The  snow  had  drifted  over  him  in  a  long 
white  winding-sheet,  when  a  neighbor  one  day  heard  a  dog 
in  the  barn  crying  to  get  out.  It  was  poor  Pero,  that  had 
come  back  and  slipped  in  to  nurse  her  puppies  while  the 
barn-door  was  open,  and  was  now  crying  to  get  out  and  go 
back  to  her  poor  master.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  the  man 
that  Pero  might  find  the  body,  and  in  fact,  when  she 
started  off,  he  saw  a  little  path  which  her  small  paws  had 
worn  in  the  snow,  and,  tracking  after,  found  the  frozen 
body.  This  poor  little  friend  had  nestled  the  snow  away 
around  the  breast,  and  stayed  watching  and  waiting  by  her 
dead  master,  only  taking  her  way  back  occasionally  to  the 
barn  to  nurse  her  little  ones.  I  cannot  help  asking 
whether  a  little  animal  that  can  show  such  love  and  faith 
fulness  has  not  something  worth  respecting  and  caring  for 
in  its  nature. 

At  this  time  of  the  year  our  city  ordinances  proclaim  a 
general  leave  and  license  to  take  the  lives  of  all  dogs  found 
in  the  streets,  and  scenes  of  dreadful  cruelty  are  often  en- 


120  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

acted  in  consequence.  I  hope,  if  my  stories  fall  under  the 
eye  of  any  boy  who  may  ever  witness,  or  be  tempted  to  take 
part  in,  the  hunting  down  and  killing  a  poor  dog,  that  he 
will  remember  of  how  much  faithfulness  and  affection  and 
constancy  these  poor  brutes  are  capable,  and,  instead  of  be 
ing  their  tyrant  and  persecutor,  will  try  to  make  himself 
their  protector  and  friend. 


SIE  WALTEE  SCOTT  AND  HIS  DOGS 

MASTER  FREDERICK  LITTLE- JOHN  has  of  late  struck  up 
quite  a  friendship  with  me,  and  haunts  my  footsteps  about 
the  house  to  remind  me  of  my  promise  to  write  some  more 
dog  stories.  Master  Fred  has  just  received  a  present  from 
his  father  of  a  great  Newfoundland  that  stands  a  good  deal 
higher  in  his  stocking-feet  than  his  little  master  in  his 
highest-heeled  boots,  and  he  has  named  him  Prince,  in 
honor  of  the  Prince  that  I  told  you  about  last  month,  that 
used  to  drive  the  cows  to  pasture,  and  take  down  the  bars 
with  his  teeth.  We  have  daily  and  hourly  accounts  in  the 
family  circle  of  Prince's  sayings  and  doings  ;  for  Master 
Freddy  insists  upon  it  that  Prince  speaks,  and  daily  insists 
upon  placing  a  piece  of  bread  on  the  top  of  Prince's  nose, 
which  at  the  word  of  command  he  fires  into  the  air,  and 
catches  in  his  mouth,  closing  the  performance  with  a  snap 
like  a  rifle.  Fred  also  makes  much  of  showing  him  a  bit 
of  meat  held  high  in  the  air,  for  which  he  is  requested  to 
"  speak,' '  —  the  speaking  consisting  in  very  short  exclama 
tions  of  the  deepest  bow-wow.  Certain  it  is  that  Prince 
shows  on  these  occasions  that  he  has  the  voice  for  a  public 
speaker,  and  that,  if  he  does  not  go  about  the  country 
lecturing,  it  is  because  he  wants  time  yet  to  make  up  his 
mind  what  to  say  on  the  topics  of  the  day. 

Fred  is  somewhat  puzzled  to  make  good  the  ground  of 
his  favorite  with  Aunt  Zeroiah,  who  does  not  love  dogs, 
and  is  constantly  casting  reflections  on  them  as  nuisances, 
dirt-makers,  flea-catchers,  and  flea-scatterers,  and  insinuating 
a  plea  that  Prince  should  be  given  away,  or  in  some  manner 
sold  or  otherwise  disposed  of. 


122  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

"  Aunt  Zeroiah  thinks  that  there  is  nothing  so  mean  as  a 
dog/7  said  Master  Fred  to  me  as  he  sat  with  his  arm  around 
the  neck  of  his  favorite.  "  She  really  seems  to  grudge 
every  morsel  of  meat  a  dog  eats,  and  to  think  that  every 
kindness  you  show  a  dog  is  almost  a  sin.  Now  I  think 
dogs  are  noble  creatures,  and  have  noble  feelings,  —  they 
are  so  faithful,  and  so  kind  and  loving.  Now  I  do  wish 
you  would  make  haste  and  write  something  to  show  her  that 
dogs  have  been  thought  a  good  deal  of.77 

"  Well,  Master  Freddy,'7  said  I,  "I  will  tell  you  in  the 
first  place  about  Sir  Walter  Scott,  whose  poems  and  novels 
have  been  the  delight  of  whole  generations.77 

He  was  just  of  your  opinion  about  dogs,  and  he  had  a 
great  many  of  them.  When  Washington  Irving  visited 
Sir  Walter  at  Abbotsford,  he  found  him  surrounded  by  his 
dogs,  which  formed  as  much  a  part  of  the  family  as  his 
children. 

In  the  morning,  when  they  started  for  a  ramble,  the 
dogs  would  all  be  on  the  alert  to  join  them.  There  was 
first  a  tall  old  staghound  named  Maida,  that  considered 
himself  the  confidential  friend  of  his  master,  walked  by  his 
side,  and  looked  into  his  eyes  as  if  asserting  a  partnership 
in  his  thoughts.  Then  there  was  a  black  greyhound 
named  Hamlet,  a  more  frisky  and  thoughtless  youth,  that 
gamboled  and  pranced  and  barked  and  cut  capers  with  the 
wildest  glee ;  and  there  was  a  beautiful  setter  named 
Finette,  with  large  mild  eyes,  soft  silken  hair,  and  long 
curly  ears,  —  the  favorite  of  the  parlor ;  and  then  a  vener 
able  old  greyhound,  wagging  his  tail,  came  out  to  join  the 
party  as  he  saw  them  going  by  his  quarters,  and  was  cheered 
by  Scott  with  a  hearty,  kind  word  as  an  old  friend  and 
comrade. 

In  his  walks  Scott  would  often  stop  and  talk  to  one  or 
another  of  his  four-footed  friends,  as  if  they  were  in  fact 
rational  companions ;  and,  from  being  talked  to  and  treated 


SIR  WALTER   SCOTT  AND   HIS  DOGS  123 

in  this  way,  they  really  seemed  to  acquire  more  sagacity 
than  other  dogs. 

Old  Maida  seemed  to  consider  himself  as  a  sort  of  pres 
ident  of  the  younger  dogs,  as  a  dog  of  years  and  reflection, 
whose  mind  was  upon  more  serious  and  weighty  topics  than 
theirs.  As  he  padded  along,  the  younger  dogs  would  some 
times  try  to  ensnare  him  into  a  frolic,  by  jumping  upon  his 
neck  and  making  a  snap  at  his  ears.  Old  Maida  would 
bear  this  in  silent  dignity  for  a  while,  and  then  suddenly, 
as  if  his  patience  were  exhausted,  he  would  catch  one  of 
his  tormentors  by  the  neck  and  tumble  him  in  the  dirt, 
giving  an  apologetic  look  to  his  master  at  the  same  time, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  You  see,  sir,  I  can't  help  joining  a 
little  in  this  nonsense." 

"  Ah,"  said  Scott,  "  I  've  no  doubt  that,  when  Maida  is 
alone  with  these  young  dogs,  he  throws  dignity  aside  and 
plays  the  boy  as  much  as  any  of  them,  but  he  is  ashamed 
to  do  it  in  our  company,  and  seems  to  say,  ( Have  done 
with  your  nonsense,  youngsters ;  what  will  the  Laird  and 
that  other  gentleman  think  of  me  if  I  give  way  to  such 
foolery?'" 

At  length  the  younger  dogs  fancied  that  they  discovered 
something,  which  set  them  all  into  a  furious  barking.  Old 
Maida  for  some  time  walked  silently  by  his  master,  pre 
tending  not  to  notice  the  clamors  of  the  inferior  dogs.  At 
last,  however,  he  seemed  to  feel  himself  called  on  to  attend 
to  them,  and  giving  a  plunge  forward  he  opened  his  mind 
to  them,  with  a  deep  "  Bow-wow,"  that  drowned  for  the 
time  all  other  voices.  Then,  as  if  he  had  settled  matters, 
he  returned  to  his  master,  wagging  his  tail,  and  looking  in 
his  face  as  if  for  approval. 

"  Ay,  a\y,  old  boy,"  said  Scott ;  "  you  have  done  won 
ders  ;  you  have  shaken  the  Eildon  Hills  with  your  roaring, 
and  now  you  may  shut  up  your  artillery  for  the  rest  of  the 
day.  Maida,"  he  said,  "  is  like  the  big  gun  of  Constanti- 


124  QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE 

nople,  —  it  takes  so  long  to  get  it  ready  that  the  small  ones 
can  fire  off  a  dozen  times,  but  when  it  does  go  off  it  carries 
all  before  it." 

Scott's  four-footed  friends  made  a  respectful  part  of  the 
company  at  family  meals.  Old  Maida  took  his  seat  gravely 
at  his  master's  elbow,  looking  up  wistfully  into  his  eyes, 
while  Finette,  the  pet  spaniel,  took  her  seat  by  Mrs.  Scott. 
Besides  the  dogs  in  attendance,  a  large  gray  cat  also  took 
her  seat  near  her  master,  and  was  presented  from  time  to 
time  with  bits  from  the  table.  Puss,  it  appears,  was  a 
great  favorite  both  with  master  and  mistress,  and  slept  in 
their  room  at  night ;  and  Scott  laughingly  said  that  one  of 
the  least  wise  parts  of  the  family  arrangement  was  the 
leaving  the  window  open  at  night  for  puss  to  go  in  and 
out.  The  cat  assumed  a  sort  of  supremacy  among  the 
quadrupeds,  sitting  in  state  in  Scott's  arm-chair,  and  occa 
sionally  stationing  himself  on  a  chair  beside  the  door,  as  if 
to  review  his  subjects  as  they  passed,  giving  each  dog  a 
cuff  on  the  ears  as  he  went  by.  This  clapper-clawing  was 
always  amiably  taken.  It  appeared  to  be  in  fact  a  mere 
act  of  sovereignty  on  the  part  of  Grimalkin,  to  remind  the 
others  of  their  vassalage,  to  which  they  cheerfully  submitted. 
Perfect  harmony  prevailed  between  old  puss  and  her  sub 
jects,  and  they  would  all  sleep  contentedly  together  in  the 
sunshine. 

Scott  once  said,  the  only  trouble  about  having  a  dog  was 
that  he  must  die ;  but  he  said  it  was  better  to  have  them 
die  in  eight  or  nine  years  than  to  go  on  loving  them  for 
twenty  or  thirty,  and  then  have  them  die. 

Scott  lived  to  lose  many  of  his  favorites,  that  were 
buried  with  funeral  honors,  and  had  monuments  erected 
over  them,  which  form  some  of  the  prettiest  ornaments  of 
Abbotsford.  When  we  visited  the  place,  one  of  the  first 
objects  we  saw  in  the  front  yard  near  the  door  was  the 
tomb  of  old  Maida,  over  which  is  sculptured  the  image  of  a 


SIR  WALTER  SCOTT  AND   HIS  DOGS  125 

beautiful  hound,  with  this  inscription,  which  you  may 
translate  if  you  like  :  — 

"  Maidse  marmorea  dormis  sub  imagine, 
Maida, 
Ad  januam  domini  ;  sit  tibi  terra  levis." 

Or,  if  you  don't  want  the  trouble  of  translating  it,  Mas 
ter  Freddy,  I  would  do  it  thus :  — 

"At  thy  lord's  door,  in  slumbers  light  and  blest, 
Maida,  beneath  this  marble  Maida  rest. 
Light  lie  the  turf  upon  thy  gentle  breast." 

Washington  Irving  says  that  in  one  of  his  morning  ram 
bles  he  came  upon  a  curious  old  Gothic  monument,  on 
which  was  inscribed  in  Gothic  characters, 

"  Cy  git  le  preux  Percy," 
(Here  lies  the  brave  Percy,) 

and  asking  Scott  what  it  was,  he  replied,  "  Oh,  only  one  of 
my  fooleries,"  —  and  afterwards  Irving  found  it  was  the 
grave  of  a  favorite  greyhound. 

Now,  certainly,  Master  Freddy,  you  must  see  in  all  this 
that  you  have  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  of  the  world  to 
bear  you  out  in  thinking  a  deal  of  dogs. 

But  I  have  still  another  instance.  The  great  rival  poet 
to  Scott  was  Lord  Byron  ;  not  so  good  or  so  wise  a  man 
by  many  degrees,  but  very  celebrated  in  his  day.  He  also 
had  a  four-footed  friend,  a  Newfoundland,  called  Boatswain, 
which  he  loved  tenderly,  and  whose  elegant  monument  now 
forms  one  of  the  principal  ornaments  of  the  garden  of  New- 
stead  Abbey,  and  upon  it  may  be  read  this  inscription :  — 

"Near  this  spot 

Are  deposited  the  remains  of  one 
Who  possessed  beauty  without  vanity, 
Strength  without  insolence, 
Courage  without  ferocity, 
And  all  the  virtues  of  man  without  his  vices. 
This  praise,  which  would  be  unmeaning  flattery 

If  inscribed  over  human  ashes, 
Is  but  a  just  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
BOATSWAIN,  a  dog, 


126  QTJEEK  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

Who  was  born  at  Newfoundland,  May,  1803, 
And  died  at  Newstead  Abbey,  Nov.  18,  1808." 

On  the  other  side  of  the  monument  the  poet  inscribed 
these  lines  in  praise  of  dogs  in  general,  which  I  would 
recommend  you  to  show  to  any  of  the  despisers  of  dogs  :  — 

"  When  some  proud  son  of  man  returns  to  earth 
Unknown  to  glory,  but  upheld  by  birth, 
The  sculptor's  art  exhausts  the  pomp  of  woe, 
And  storied  urns  record  who  rests  below. 
But  the  poor  dog,  in  life  the  firmest  friend, 
The  first  to  welcome,  foremost  to  defend, 
Whose  honest  heart  is  still  his  master's  own, 
Who  labors,  fights,  lives,  breathes,  for  him  alone, 
Unhonored  falls,  unnoticed  all  his  worth, 
Denied  in  heaven  the  soul  he  held  on  earth. 
While  man,  vain  insect  !  hopes  to  be  forgiven, 
And  claims  himself  a  sole  exclusive  heaven  ! 
Ye  who  perchance  behold  this  simple  urn, 
Pass  on,  it  honors  none  you  wish  to  mourn. 
To  mark  a,  friend's  remains  these  stones  arise  ; 
I  never  knew  but  one,  —  and  here  he  lies." 

If  you  want  more  evidence  of  the  high  esteem  in  which 
dogs  are  held,  I  might  recommend  to  you  a  very  pretty  dog 
story  called  "  Bab  and  his  Friends,"  the  reading  of  which 
will  give  you  a  pleasant  hour.  Also  in  a  book  called 
"  Spare  Hours  "  the  author  of  "Rab  and  his  Friends"  gives 
amusing  accounts  of  all  his  different  dogs,  which  I  am  sure 
you  would  be  pleased  to  read,  even  though  you  find  many 
long  words  in  it  which  you  cannot  understand. 

But  enough  has  been  given  to  show  you  that  in  the  high 
esteem  you  have  for  your  favorite,  and  in  your  determina 
tion  to  treat  him  as  a  dog  should  be  treated,  you  are  sus 
tained  by  the  very  best  authority. 


COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  AGAIN 

Do  my  dear  little  friends  want  to  hear  a  word  more 
about  our  country  neighbors  ?  Since  we  wrote  about  them, 
we  have  lived  in  the  same  place  more  than  a  year,  and 
perhaps  some  of  you  may  want  to  know  whether  old  Unke 
or  little  Cri-cri  have  ever  come  up  to  sit  under  the  lily- 
leaves  by  the  fountain,  or  Master  Furry-toes,  the  flying 
squirrel,  has  amused  himself  in  pattering  about  the  young 
lady's  chamber  o'  nights  ?  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  our 
country  neighbors  have  entirely  lost  the  neighborly,  con 
fiding  spirit  that  they  had  when  we  first  came  and  settled 
in  the  woods. 

Old  Unke  has  distinguished  himself  on  moonlight  nights 
in  performing  bass  solos  in  a  very  deep,  heavy  voice,  down 
in  the  river,  but  he  has  never  hopped  his  way  back  into 
that  conservatory  from  which  he  was  disgracefully  turned 
out  at  the  point  of  Mr.  Fred's  cane.  He  has  contented 
himself  with  the  heavy  musical  performances  I  spoke  of, 
and  I  have  fancied  they  sounded  much  like  "  Won't  come 
any  more,  —  won't  come  any  more,  —  won't  come  any 
more  !  " 

Sometimes,  strolling  down  to  the  river,  we  have  seen  his 
solemn  yellow  spectacles  emerging  from  the  tall  water-gras 
ses,  as  he  sat  complacently  looking  about  him.  Near  by 
him,  spread  out  on  the  sunny  bottom  of  the  pool,  was  a  large 
flat-headed  water-snake,  with  a  dull  yellow-brown  back  and 
such  a  swelled  stomach  that  it  was  quite  evident  he  had 
been  making  his  breakfast  that  morning  by  swallowing  some 
unfortunate  neighbor  like  poor  little  Cri-cri.  This  trick  of 


128  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

swallowing  one's  lesser  neighbors  seems  to  prevail  greatly 
among  the  people  who  live  in  our  river.  Mr.  Water-snake 
makes  his  meal  on  little  Mr.  Frog,  and  little  Mr.  Bullfrog 
follows  the  same  example.  It  seems  a  sad  state  of  things ; 
but  then  I  suppose  all  animals  have  to  die  in  some  way  or 
other,  and  perhaps,  if  they  are  in  the  habit  of  seeing  it 
done,  it  may  appear  no  more  to  a  frog  to  expect  to  be  swal 
lowed  some  day,  than  it  may  to  some  of  us  to  die  of  a 
fever,  or  be  shot  in  battle,  as  many  a  brave  fellow  has  been 
of  late. 

We  have  heard  not  a  word  from  the  woodchucks.  Ever 
since  we  violated  the  laws  of  woodland  hospitality  by  set 
ting  a  trap  for  their  poor  old  patriarch,  they  have  very 
justly  considered  us  as  bad  neighbors,  and  their  hole  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden  has  been  "  to  let,"  and  nobody  as  yet 
has  ventured  to  take  it.  Our  friends  the  muskrats  have 
been  nourishing,  and  on  moonlight  nights  have  been  swim 
ming  about,  popping  up  the  tips  of  their  little  black  noses 
to  make  observations. 

But  latterly  a  great  commotion  has  been  made  among  the 
amphibious  tribes,  because  of  the  letting  down  of  the  dam 
which  kept  up  the  water  of  the  river,  and  made  it  a  good, 
full,  wide  river.  When  the  dam  was  torn  down  it  became 
a  little  miserable  stream,  flowing  through  a  wide  field  of 
muddy  bottom,  and  all  the  secrets  of  the  underwater  were 
disclosed.  The  white  and  yellow  water-lily  roots  were  left 
high  and  dry  up  in  the  mud,  and  all  the  musk-rat  holes 
could  be  seen  plainer  than  ever  before ;  and  the  other  day 
Master  Charley  brought  in  a  fish's  nest  which  he  had  found 
in  what  used  to  be  deep  water. 

"A  fish's  nest ! "  says  little  Tom  ;  "  I  did  n't  know  fishes 
made  nests."  But  they  do,  Tommy  ;  that  is,  one  particular 
kind  of  fish  makes  a  nest  of  sticks  and  straws  and  twigs 
plastered  together  with  some  kind  of  cement,  the  making 
of  which  is  a  family  secret.  It  lies  on  the  ground  like  a 


COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  AGAIN  129 

common  bird's  nest  turned  bottom  upward,  and  has  a  tiny 
little  hole  in  the  side  for  a  door,  through  which  the  little 
fishes  swim  in  and  out. 

The  name  of  the  kind  of  fish  that  builds  this  nest  I  do 
not  know ;  and  if  the  water  had  not  been  drawn  off,  I 
should  not  have  known  that  we  had  any  such  fish  in  our 
river.  Where  we  found  ours  the  water  had  been  about 
five  feet  above  it.  Now,  Master  Tom,  if  you  want  to  know 
more  about  nest-building  fishes,  you  must  get  your  papa  and 
mamma  to  inquire  and  see  if  they  cannot  get  you  some  of 
the  little  books  on  fishes  and  aquariums  that  have  been 
published  lately.  I  remember  to  have  read  all  about  these 
nests  in  one  of  them,  but  I  do  not  remember  either  the  name 
of  the  book  or  the  name  of  the  fish,  and  so  there  is  some 
thing  still  for  you  to  inquire  after. 

I  am  happy  to  say,  for  the  interest  of  the  water-lilies 
and  the  muskrats  and  the  fishes,  that  the  dam  has  only 
been  torn  down  from  our  river  for  the  purpose  of  making  a 
new  and  stronger  one,  and  that  by  and  by  the  water  will 
be  again  broad  and  deep  as  before,  and  all  the  water-people 
can  then  go  on  with  their  housekeeping  just  as  they  used  to 
do,  —  only  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  one  fish  family  will  miss 
their  house,  and  have  to  build  a  new  one ;  but  if  they  are 
enterprising  fishes  they  will  perhaps  make  some  improve 
ments  that  will  make  the  new  house  better  than  the  old. 

As  to  the  birds,  we  have  had  a  great  many  visits  from 
them.  Our  house  has  so  many  great  glass  windows,  and 
the  conservatory  windows  in  the  centre  of  it  being  always 
wide  open,  the  birds  seem  to  have  taken  it  for  a  piece  of 
outdoors,  and  flown  in.  The  difficulty  has  been,  that  after 
they  had  got  in,  there  appeared  to  be  no  way  of  making 
them  understand  the  nature  of  glass,  and  wherever  they  saw 
a  glass  window  they  fancied  they  could  fly  through ;  and 
so,  taking  aim  hither  and  thither,  they  darted  head  first 
against  the  glass,  beating  and  bruising  their  poor  little 


130  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

heads  without  beating  in  any  more  knowledge  than  they 
had  before.  Many  a  poor  little  feather-head  has  thus  fallen 
a  victim  to  his  want  of  natural  philosophy,  and  tired  him 
self  out  with  beating  against  window-panes,  till  he  has  at 
last  fallen  dead.  One  day  we  picked  up  no  less  than  three 
dead  birds  in  different  parts  of  the  house.  Now  if  it  had 
only  been  possible  to  enlighten  our  feathered  friends  in 
regard  to  the  fact  that  everything  that  is  transparent  is  not 
air,  we  would  have  summoned  a  bird  council  in  our  con 
servatory,  and  explained  matters  to  them  at  once  and  alto 
gether.  As  it  is,  we  could  only  say,  "  Oh  !  "  and  "  Ah  !  " 
and  lament,  as  we  have  followed  one  poor  victim  after 
another  from  window  to  window,  and  seen  him  flutter  and 
beat  his  pretty  senseless  head  against  the  glass,  frightened 
to  death  at  all  our  attempts  to  help  him. 

As  to  the  humming-birds,  their  number  has  been  infinite. 
Just  back  of  the  conservatory  stands  an  immense,  high 
clump  of  scarlet  sage,  whose  brilliant  flowers  have  been  like 
a  light  shining  from  afar,  and  drawn  to  it  flocks  of  these 
little  creatures ;  and  we  have  often  sat  watching  them  as 
they  put  their  long  bills  into  one  scarlet  tube  after  another, 
lifting  themselves  lightly  off  the  bush,  poising  a  moment  in 
mid-air,  and  then  dropping  out  of  sight. 

They  have  flown  into  the  conservatory  in  such  numbers 
that,  had  we  wished  to  act  over  again  the  dear  little  history 
of  our  lost  pet,  Hum,  the  son  of  Buz,  we  should  have  had 
plenty  of  opportunities  to  do  it.  Humming-birds  have  been 
for  some  reason  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  wild  and  untam 
able.  Our  experience  has  proved  that  they  are  the  most 
disposed  to  put  trust  in  us  human  beings  of  all  birds  in  the 
world. 

More  than  once  this  summer  has  some  little  captive 
exhausted  his  strength  flying  hither  and  thither  against  the 
great  roof  window  of  the  conservatory,  till  the  whole  family 
was  in  alarm  to  help.  The  Professor  himself  has  left  his 


COUNTKY  NEIGHBORS  AGAIN  131 

books,  and  anxiously  flourished  a  long  cobweb  broom  in 
hopes  to  bring  the  little  wanderer  down  to  the  level  of  open 
windows,  while  every  other  member  of  the  family  ran, 
called,  made  suggestions,  and  gave  advice,  which  all  ended 
in  the  poor  little  fool's  falling  flat,  in  a  state  of  utter 
exhaustion,  and  being  picked  up  in  some  lady's  pocket 
handkerchief. 

Then  has  been  running  to  mix  sugar  and  water,  while 
the  little  crumb  of  a  bird  has  lain  in  an  apparent  swoon  in 
the  small  palm  of  some  fair  hand,  but  opening  occasionally 
one  eye,  and  then  the  other,  dreamily,  to  see  when  the 
sugar  and  water  was  coming,  and  gradually  showing  more 
and  more  signs  of  returning  life  as  it  appeared.  Even  when 
he  had  taken  his  drink  of  sugar  and  water,  and  seemed  able 
to  sit  up  in  his  warm  little  hollow,  he  has  seemed  in  no 
hurry  to  flee,  but  remained  tranquilly  looking  about  him 
for  some  moments,  till  all  of  a  sudden,  with  one  whirr, 
away  he  goes,  like  a  flying  morsel  of  green  and  gold,  over 
our  heads  —  into  the  air  —  into  the  treetops.  What  a 
lovely  time  he  must  have  of  it ! 

One  rainy,  windy  day,  Miss  Jenny,  going  into  the  con 
servatory,  heard  a  plaintive  little  squeak,  and  found  a  poor 
humming-bird,  just  as  we  found  poor  little  Hum,  all 
wet  and  chilled,  and  bemoaning  himself,  as  he  sat  clinging 
tightly  upon  the  slenderest  twig  of  a  grape-vine.  She  took 
him  off,  wrapped  him  in  cotton,  and  put  him  in  a  box  on  a 
warm  shelf  over  the  kitchen  range.  After  a  while  you  may 
be  sure  there  was  a  pretty  fluttering  in  the  box.  Master 
Hum  was  awake  and  wanted  to  be  attended  to.  She  then 
mixed  sugar  and  water,  and,  opening  the  box,  offered  him 
a  drop  on  her  finger,  which  he  licked  off  with  his  long 
tongue  as  knowingly  as  did  his  namesake  at  Eye  Beach. 
After  letting  him  satisfy  his  appetite  for  sugar  and  water, 
as  the  rain  was  over  and  the  sun  began  to  shine,  Miss  Jenny 
took  him  to  the  door,  and  away  he  flew. 


132  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

These  little  incidents  show  that  it  would  not  ever  be  a 
difficult  matter  to  tame  humming-birds,  —  only  they  cannot 
be  kept  in  cages ;  a  sunny  room  with  windows  defended 
by  mosquito-netting  would  be  the  only  proper  cage.  The 
humming-bird,  as  we  are  told  by  naturalists,  though  very 
fond  of  the  honey  of  flowers,  does  not  live  on  it  entirely  or 
even  principally.  It  is  in  fact  a  little  fly -catcher,  and  lives 
on  small  insects ;  and  a  humming-bird  never  can  be  kept 
healthy  for  any  length  of  time  in  a  room  that  does  not  ad 
mit  insects  enough  to  furnish  him  a  living.  So  you  see  it 
is  not  merely  toads,  and  water-snakes,  and  such  homely 
creatures,  that  live  by  eating  other  living  beings,  —  but 
even  the  fairy-like  and  brilliant  humming-bird. 

The  autumn  months  are  now  coming  on  (for  it  is  Octo 
ber  while  I  write),  —  the  flowers  are  dying  night  by  night 
as  the  frosts  grow  heavier,  —  the  squirrels  are  racing  about, 
full  of  business,  getting  in  their  winter's  supply  of  nuts ; 
everything  now  is  active  and  busy  among  our  country  neigh 
bors.  In  a  cottage  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  us,  a 
whole  family  of  squirrels  have  made  the  discovery  that  a 
house  is  warmer  in  winter  than  the  best  hollow  tree,  and 
so  have  gone  into  a  chink  between  the  wall,  where  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Squirrel  can  often  be  heard  late  at  night  chat 
tering  and  making  quite  a  family  fuss  about  the  arrange 
ment  of  their  household  goods  for  the  coming  season.  This 
is  all  the  news  about  the  furry  people  that  I  have  to 
give  you.  The  flying  squirrel  I  have  not  yet  heard  from, 
—  perhaps  he  will  appear  yet  as  the  weather  gets  colder. 

Old  Master  Boohoo,  the  owl,  sometimes  goes  on  at  such 
a  rate  on  moonlight  nights  in  the  great  chestnut-trees  that 
overhang  the  river,  that,  if  you  did  not  know  better,  you 
might  think  yourself  miles  deep  in  the  heart  of  a  sombre 
forest,  instead  of  being  within  two  squares'  walk  of  the 
city  lamps.  We  never  yet  have  caught  a  fair  sight  of  him. 
At  the  cottage  we  speak  of,  the  chestnut-trees  are  very 


COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  AGAIN  133 

tall,  and  come  close  to  the  upper  windows ;  and  one  night 
a  fair  maiden,  going  up  to  bed,  was  startled  by  a  pair  of 
great  round  eyes  looking  into  her  window.  It  was  one  of 
the  Boohoo  family,  who  had  been  taken  with  a  fit  of  grave 
curiosity  about  what  went  on  inside  the  cottage,  and  so  set 
himself  to  observe.  We  have  never  been  able  to  return  the 
compliment  by  looking  into  their  housekeeping,  as  their 
nests  are  very  high  up  in  the  hollows  of  old  trees,  where 
we  should  not  be  likely  to  get  at  them. 

If  we  hear  anything  more  from  any  of  these  neighbors 
of  ours,  we  will  let  you  know.  We  have  all  the  afternoon 
been  hearing  a  great  screaming  among  the  jays  in  the  woods 
hard  by,  and  I  think  we  must  go  out  and  see  what  is  the 
matter.  So  good-by. 


THE  DIVEETING  HISTOKY  OF  LITTLE 
WHISKEY 

AND  now,  at  the  last,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  something 
of  the  ways  and  doings  of  one  of  the  queer  little  people, 
whom  I  shall  call  Whiskey. 

You  cannot  imagine  how  pretty  he  is.  His  back  has  the 
most  beautiful  smooth  shining  stripes  of  reddish  brown  and 
black,  his  eyes  shine  like  bright  glass  beads,  and  he  sits  up 
jauntily  on  his  hind  quarters,  with  his  little  tail  thrown 
over  his  back  like  a  ruffle  ! 

And  where  does  he  live  ?  Well,  "  that  is  telling,"  as 
we  children  say.  It  was  somewhere  up  in  the  mountains  of 
Berkshire,  in  a  queer,  quaint,  old-fashioned  garden,  that  I 
made  Mr.  Whiskey's  acquaintance. 

Here  there  lives  a  young  parson,  who  preaches  every 
Sunday  in  a  little  brown  church,  and  during  week-days 
goes  through  all  these  hills  and  valleys,  visiting  the  poor, 
and  gathering  children  into  Sunday  schools. 

His  wife  is  a  very  small-sized  lady,  — not  much  bigger 
than  you,  my  little  Mary,  —  but  very  fond  of  all  sorts  of 
dumb  animals ;  and  by  constantly  watching  their  actions 
and  ways,  she  has  come  to  have  quite  a  strange  power 
over  them,  as  I  shall  relate. 

The  little  lady  fixed  her  mind  on  Whiskey,  and  gave 
him  his  name  without  consulting  him  upon  the  subject. 
She  admired  his  bright  eyes,  and  resolved  to  cultivate  his 
acquaintance. 

By  constant  watching,  she  discovered  that  he  had  a  small 
hole  of  his  own  in  the  grass-plot  a  few  paces  from  her 


THE  DIVERTING  HISTORY  OF  LITTLE  WHISKEY      135 

back  door.  So  she  used  to  fill  her  pockets  with  hazel-nuts, 
and  go  out  and  sit  in  the  back  porch,  and  make  a  little 
noise,  such  as  squirrels  make  to  each  other,  to  attract  his 
attention. 

In  a  minute  or  two  up  would  pop  the  little  head  with 
the  bright  eyes,  in  the  grass-plot,  and  Master  Whiskey 
would  sit  on  his  haunches  and  listen,  with  one  small  ear 
cocked  towards  her.  Then  she  would  throw  him  a  hazel- 
nut,  and  he  would  slip  instantly  down  into  his  hole  again. 
In  a  minute  or  two,  however,  his  curiosity  would  get  the 
better  of  his  prudence ;  and  she,  sitting  quiet,  would  see 
the  little  brown-striped  head  slowly,  slowly  coming  up 
again,  over  the  tiny  green  spikes  of  the  grass-plot.  Quick 
as  a  flash  he  would  dart  at  the  nut,  whisk  it  into  a  little 
bag  on  one  side  of  his  jaws,  which  Madame  Nature  has 
furnished  him  with  for  his  provision-pouch,  and  down  into 
his  hole  again  !  An  ungrateful,  suspicious  little  brute  he 
was  too ;  for  though  in  this  way  he  bagged  and  carried  off 
nut  after  nut,  until  the  patient  little  woman  had  used  up 
a  pound  of  hazel-nuts,  still  he  seemed  to  have  the  same 
wild  fright  at  sight  of  her,  and  would  whisk  off  and  hide 
himself  in  his  hole  the  moment  she  appeared.  In  vain 
she  called,  "  Whiskey,  Whiskey,  Whiskey,"  in  the  most 
flattering  tones  ;  in  vain  she  coaxed  and  cajoled.  No,  no  ; 
he  was  not  to  be  caught  napping.  He  had  no  objection  to 
accepting  her  nuts,  as  many  as  she  chose  to  throw  to  him ; 
but  as  to  her  taking  any  personal  liberty  with  him,  you 
see,  it  was  not  to  be  thought  of ! 

But  at  last  patience  and  perseverance  began  to  have 
their  reward.  Little  Master  Whiskey  said  to  himself, 
"  Surely,  this  is  a  nice,  kind  lady,  to  take  so  much  pains 
to  give  me  nuts ;  she  is  certainly  very  considerate  ;  "  and 
with  that  he  edged  a  little  nearer  and  nearer  every  day, 
until,  quite  to  the  delight  of  the  small  lady,  he  would 
come  and  climb  into  her  lap  and  seize  the  nuts,  when  she 


136  QUEER  LITTLE   PEOPLE 

rattled  them  there,  and  after  that  he  seemed  to  make  ex 
ploring  voyages  all  over  her  person.  He  would  climb  up 
and  sit  on  her  shoulder ;  he  would  mount  and  perch  him 
self  on  her  head  ;  and,  when  she  held  a  nut  for  him  be 
tween  her  teeth,  would  take  it  out  of  her  mouth. 

After  a  while  he  began  to  make  tours  of  discovery  in 
the  house.  He  would  suddenly  appear  on  the  minister's 
writing-table,  when  he  was  composing  his  Sunday  sermon, 
and  sit  cocking  his  little  pert  head  at  him,  seeming  to 
wonder  what  he  was  about.  But  in  all  his  explorations 
he  proved  himself  a  true  Yankee  squirrel,  having  always  a 
shrewd  eye  on  the  main  chance.  If  the  parson  dropped 
a  nut  on  the  floor,  down  went  Whiskey  after  it,  and  into 
his  provision-bag  it  went,  and  then  he  would  look  up  as  if 
he  expected  another ;  for  he  had  a  wallet  on  each  side  of 
his  jaws,  and  he  always  wanted  both  sides  handsomely 
filled  before  he  made  for  his  hole.  So  busy  and  active, 
and  always  intent  on  this  one  object,  was  he,  that  before 
long  the  little  lady  found  he  had  made  way  with  six 
pounds  of  hazel-nuts.  His  general  rule  was  to  carry  off 
four  nuts  at  a  time,  —  three  being  stuffed  into  the  side- 
pockets  of  his  jaws,  and  the  fourth  held  in  his  teeth. 
When  he  had  furnished  himself  in  this  way,  he  would 
dart  like  lightning  for  his  hole,  and  disappear  in  a  mo 
ment  ;  but  in  a  short  time  up  he  would  come,  brisk  and 
wide-awake,  and  ready  for  the  next  supply. 

Once  a  person  who  had  the  curiosity  to  dig  open  a  chip 
ping  squirrel's  hole  found  in  it  two  quarts  of  buckwheat, 
a  quantity  of  grass-seed,  nearly  a  peck  of  acorns,  some 
Indian  corn,  and  a  quart  of  walnuts ;  a  pretty  handsome 
supply  for  a  squirrel's  winter  store-room,  —  don't  you  think 
so? 

Whiskey  learned  in  time  to  work  for  his  living  in  many 
artful  ways  that  his  young  mistress  devised.  Sometimes 
she  would  tie  his  nuts  up  in  a  paper  package,  which  he 


THE  DIVERTING  HISTORY   OF  LITTLE   WHISKEY      137 

would  attack  with  great  energy,  gnawing  the  strings,  and 
rustling  the  nuts  out  of  the  paper  in  wonderfully  quick 
time.  Sometimes  she  would  tie  a  nut  to  the  end  of  a  bit 
of  twine,  and  swing  it  backward  and  forward  over  his 
head ;  and,  after  a  succession  of  spry  jumps,  he  would 
pounce  upon  it,  and  hang  swinging  on  the  twine,  till  he 
had  gnawed  the  nut  away. 

Another  squirrel  —  doubtless  hearing  of  Whiskey's 
good  luck  —  began  to  haunt  the  same  yard  ;  but  Whiskey 
would  by  no  means  allow  him  to  cultivate  his  young  mis 
tress's  acquaintance.  No  indeed  !  he  evidently  considered 
that  the  institution  would  not  support  two.  Sometimes 
he  would  appear  to  be  conversing  with  the  stranger  on  the 
most  familiar  and  amicable  terms  in  the  back  yard :  but  if 
his  mistress  called  his  name,  he  would  immediately  start 
and  chase  his  companion  quite  out  of  sight,  before  he  came 
back  to  her. 

So  you  see  that  self-seeking  is  not  confined  to  men  alone, 
and  that  Whiskey's  fine  little  fur  coat  covers  a  very  selfish 
heart. 

As  winter  comes  on,  Whiskey  will  go  down  into  his 
hole,  which  has  many  long  galleries  and  winding  passages, 
and  a  snug  little  bedroom  well  lined  with  leaves.  Here 
he  will  doze  and  dream  away  his  long  winter  months,  and 
nibble  out  the  inside  of  his  store  of  nuts. 

If  I  hear  any  more  of  his  cunning  tricks,  I  will  tell  you 
of  them. 


LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW 


TO 

MARY,  EMILY,  NELLIE,  AND  CHARLOTTE, 

AND  ALL  MY  LITTLE  GIRL  FRIENDS. 

Here  is  PUSSY  WILLOW  in  a  book,  just  as  I  have  promised  you 
she  should  be.  I  send  her  to  you  as  a  Christmas  and  New 
Year's  present,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  all  grow  up  to  be  nice 
good  girls  like  her,  with  bright,  healthy  faces,  and  cheerful 
hearts,  and  the  gift  of  always  seeing 

W&t  Briflfjt  &ito 


Your  loving  friend, 

H.  B.  STOWE. 


IN  a  retired  town  of  New  England  was  a  certain  little 
green  hollow  among  high  hills ;  and  in  this  little  hollow 
stood  an  old  brown  farm-house.  It  was  built  two  stories 
high  in  front,  but  the  roof  sloped  a  long  way  down  behind, 
till  it  came  so  near  the  ground  that  any  one  of  you  might 
have  jumped  off  from  it  without  frightening  the  most  anx 
ious  mamma. 

As  I  have  said,  this  house  stood  in  a  little  hollow  formed 
by  ever  so  many  high  hills,  which  rose  around  it  much  as 
waves  rise  around  a  little  boat  in  stormy  weather ;  they 
looked,  in  fact,  like  green  waves  that  had  been  suddenly 


140  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

stopped  and  hardened  into  mountains  and  hills.  Upon 
their  sides  grew  forests  of  pines,  besides  chestnut,  hickory, 
ash,  and  maple-trees,  which  gave  them  a  charming  variety 
through  most  of  the  months  of  the  year.  The  rocks,  too, 
in  many  places  were  perfectly  veiled  and  covered  with  the 
bright,  glossy  green  leaves  of  the  rose-laurel,  while  under 
neath  the  crevices  were  full  of  fern,  saxifrage,  rock-col 
umbine,  and  all  sorts  of  lovely  things,  which  were  most 
charming  to  explore,  if  one  had  energy  enough  to  hunt 
them  up. 

The  house  had  no  yard  round  it,  but  stood  on  a  smooth 
green  turfy  knoll,  and  was  shaded  by  a  great  elm-tree,  whose 
long  branches  arched  over,  and  seemed  like  a  broad,  leafy 
sky.  In  summer  this  was  pleasant  enough,  for  the  morning 
sun  sent  straight  arrows  of  gold  hither  and  thither  between 
the  boughs  and  branches,  and  carried  some  of  the  greenness 
as  they  went  into  the  chambers  of  the  old  house,  and  at 
night  the  moon  and  stars  winked  and  twinkled,  and  made  a 
thousand  pretty  plays  of  light  and  shadow  as  they  sent  their 
rays  dancing  over,  under,  and  through  the  elm-boughs  to 
the  little  brown  house. 

It  was  somewhere  about  the  first  of  March,  I  believe, 
when  there  was  quite  a  stir  in  the  ground-floor  bedroom  of 
this  little  brown  house,  because  a  very  small  young  lady 
had  just  made  her  appearance  in  this  world,  who  was  the 
first  daughter  that  had  ever  been  given  to  John  and  Martha 
Primrose  ;  and,  of  course,  her  coming  was  a  great  event. 
Four  of  the  most  respectable  old  matrons  in  the  vicinity 
were  solemnly  taking  tea  and  quince  preserves  in  Martha's 
bedroom,  in  honor  of  the  great  event  which  had  just  tran 
spired,  while  a  little  bundle  of  flannel  was  carefully  trotted 
and  tended  in  the  lap  of  the  oldest  of  them,  who  every  now 
and  then  opened  the  folds  and  peered  in  through  her  spec 
tacles  at  a  very  red,  sleepy  little  face  that  lay  inside. 

"  Well,"  said  Dame  Toothacre,  the  eldest,  "  did  I  ever 


LITTLE  PUSSY   WILLOW  141 

know  such  a  spell  of  warm  weather  as  we  had  the  last  fort 
night  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ma'am  Trowbridge,  "  it  has  fairly  started 
the  huds.  Look,  that  pussy  willow  by  the  window  is  quite 
out." 

"  My  Mary  says  she  has  seen  a  liverwort  blossom/'  said 
Dame  Toothacre  ;  "  and  I  've  heard  bluebirds  these  two 
weeks,  —  it  7s  a  most  uncommon  season." 

"  If  the  warm  weather  holds  on,  Martha  will  have  a  good 
getting-up,"  said  Dame  Johnson.  "  She  's  got  as  plump 
and  likely  a  little  girl  as  I  should  want  to  see." 

And  so,  after  a  time,  night  settled  down  in  the  bedroom, 
and  one  after  another  of  the  good  old  gossips  went  home, 
and  the  little  bundle  of  flannel  was  tucked  warmly  into 
bed,  and  Nurse  Toothacre  was  snoring  loudly  on  a  cot-bed 
in  the  corner,  and  the  moon  streamed  through  the  willow- 
bush  by  the  window,  and  marked  the  shadow  of  all  the 
little  pussy  buds  on  it  clearly  on  the  white,  clean  floor,  — 
when  something  happened  that  nobody  must  know  of  but 
you  and  me,  dear  little  folks ;  and  what  it  was  I  shall 
relate. 

There  came  in  on  the  moonbeams  a  stream  of  fairy  folk 
and  wood  spirits,  to  see  what  they  could  do  for  the  new 
baby.  You  must  know  that  everything  that  grows  has  its 
spirit,  and  these  spirits  not  only  attend  on  their  own  plants, 
but  now  and  then  do  a  good  turn  for  mortals,  —  as,  when 
plants  have  good  and  healing  properties,  they  come  to  us  by 
the  ministry  of  these  plant  spirits. 

In  the  winter,  when  the  plant  seems  dead,  these  spirits 
dwell  dormant  under  ground ;  but  the  warm  suns  of  spring 
thaw  them,  and  renew  their  strength,  and  out  they  come 
happy  and  strong  as  ever.  Now  it  was  so  early  in  March, 
that,  if  there  had  not  been  a  most  uncommonly  warm  sea 
son  for  a  week  or  two  past,  there  would  not  have  been  a 
plant  spirit  stirring,  and  the  new  baby  would  have  had  to 


142  LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW 

go  without  the  gifts  and  graces  which  they  bring.  As  it 
was,  there  came  slipping  down  on  the  moonbeam,  first,  old 
Mother  Fern,  all  rolled  up  in  a  woolen  shawl,  with  a  woolen 
hood  on  her  head,  but  with  a  face  brimful  of  benevolence 
towards  the  new  baby.  Little  Mistress  Liverwort  came 
trembling  after  her ;  for  it  was  scarcely  warm  enough  yet 
to  justify  her  putting  on  her  spring  clothes,  and  she  did  it 
only  at  the  urgent  solicitations  of  Bluebird,  who  had  been 
besieging  her  doors  for  a  fortnight.  And,  finally,  there  was 
Pussy  Willow,  who  prudently  kept  on  her  furs,  and  moved 
so  velvet-footed  that  nobody  would  even  suspect  she  was 
there ;  but  they  undrew  the  curtains  to  get  a  look  at  the 
new  baby. 

"  Bless  its  heart ! "  said  Mother  Fern,  peering  down  at 
it  through  her  glasses.  "It  's  as  downy  as  any  of  us." 

"  I  should  think  it  might  be  a  young  bluebird,"  said 
Liverwort,  looking  down  out  of  her  gray  hood  j  "  it  looks 
as  much  like  one  as  anything.  Come,  what  shall  we  give 
it  ?  I  '11  give  it  blue  eyes,  —  real  violet-blue,  —  and  if 
that  is  n't  a  good  gift,  I  don't  know  what  is." 

"  And  I  '11  give  her  some  of  my  thrift  and  prudence," 
said  Mother  Fern.  "  We  Ferns  have  no  blossoms  to  speak 
of,  but  we  are  a  well-to-do  family,  as  everybody  knows,  and 
can  get  our  living  on  any  soil  where  it  pleases  Heaven  to  put 
us ;  and  so  thrift  shall  be  my  gift  for  this  little  lady. 
Thrift  will  surely  lead  to  riches  and  honor.  " 

"  I  will  give  her  a  better  thing  than  that,"  said  Pussy 
Willow.  "  I  grow  under  the  windows  here,  and  mean  to 
adopt  her.  She  shall  be  called  little  Pussy  Willow,  and  I 
shall  give  her  the  gift  of  always  seeing  the  bright  side  of 
everything.  That  gift  will  be  more  to  her  than  beauty  or 
riches  or  honors.  It  is  not  so  much  matter  what  color 
one's  eyes  are  as  what  one  sees  with  them.  There  is  a 
bright  side  to  everything,  if  people  only  knew  it,  and  the 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  143 

best  eyes  are  those  which  are  able  always  to  see  this  best 
side." 

"  I  must  say,  Friend  Pussy,"  said  Mother  Fern,  "  that 
you  are  a  most  sensibly  spoken  bush,  for  a  bush  of  your  age. 
You  always  did  seem  to  me  to  have  a  most  remarkable 
faculty  in  that  line ;  for  I  have  remarked  how  you  seize  on 
the  first  ray  of  sunshine,  and  get  your  pussies  out  before 
any  of  us  dare  make  a  movement.  Many  a  time  I  have 
said,  '  Well,  I  guess  Miss  Pussy  Willow  ?11  find  herself  mis 
taken  in  the  weather  this  year ; J  but,  taking  one  year  with 
another,  I  think  you  have  gained  time  by  being  always  on 
hand,  and  believing  in  the  pleasant  weather." 

"  Well,"  said  Pussy,  "  if  I  should  hang  back  with  my 
buds  as  our  old  Father  Elm-tree  does,  I  should  miss  a  deal 
of  pleasure,  and  people  would  miss  a  deal  of  pleasure  from 
me.  The  children,  dear  souls  !  I  ?m  always  in  a  hurry  to 
get  out  in  the  spring,  because  it  pleases  them.  '  0  here  7s 
Pussy  Willow  come  back  ! ?  they  cry  when  they  see  me. 
'  Now  the  winter  is  over ! >  And  no  matter  if  there  is  a 
little  dash  of  sleet  or  snow  or  frost  after  that,  I  stand  it 
with  a  good  heart,  because  I  know  it  is  summer  that  is 
coming,  and  not  winter,  and  that  things  are  certain  to  grow 
better,  and  not  worse.  I  ?m  not  handsome,  I  know  ;  I  'm 
not  elegant ;  nobody  thinks  much  of  me  ;  and  my  only 
good  points  are  my  cheerfulness  and  my  faith  in  good 
things  to  come ;  so  these  are  the  gifts  I  bring  to  my  little 
god-child." 

With  that  Pussy  Willow  stooped  and  rubbed  her  downy 
cheek  over  the  little  downy  cheek  of  the  baby,  and  the  tiny 
face  smiled  in  its  sleep  as  if  it  knew  that  something  good 
was  being  done  for  it.  But  just  then  Nurse  Toothacre, 
who  had  been  snoring  very  regularly  for  some  time,  gave 
such  a  loud  and  sudden  snort  that  it  waked  her  up,  and  she 
sat  bolt  upright  in  bed. 


144 


LITTLE  PUSSY   WILLOW 


"  Was  that  a  dog  barking  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
thought  I  heard  a  dog." 

Whisk  !  went  all  the  little  fairies  up  the  ladder  of  moon 
shine  ;  but  Pussy  Willow  laughed  softly  as  she  softly  patted 
her  velvet  tip  against  the  window,  and  said,  — 


II 

"  WELL  !  "  said  the  old  nurse,  "  who  would  V  thought 
that  'ere  baby  would  V  slept  so  ?  —  None  o'  your  worry- 
cats,  she  ain't." 

You  will  observe  from  this  speech  that  good  Nurse 
Toothacre  had  not  had  early  advantages  in  forming  her 
style  of  conversation ;  in  consequence  of  which  her  manner 
of  expressing  herself  was  not  a  thing  to  be  recommended  as 
a  model  for  you  young  folks.  Well,  now  my  dear  young 
folks  who  have  read  the  first  chapter  will  agree  that  our 
baby  has  made  a  good  beginning  in  life,  and  that  the  three 
fairies,  Mother  Fern,  and  the  pretty  Miss  Hepatica,  and 
Pussy  Willow,  have  endowed  her  with  rare  gifts,  such  as 
beautiful  blue  eyes,  a  good  healthy  constitution,  and  the 
gift  of  seeing  the  bright  side  of  everything. 

This  last  gift  was  the  greatest  of  all,  as  you  will  see  if 
you  think  a  little,  because  it  is  quite  plain  that  it  is  not  so 
much  what  people  have  that  makes  them  happy,  as  what 
they  think  and  feel  about  what  they  have.  If  one  little 
girl  has  an  old  hat  of  her  sister's  pressed  over,  and  trimmed 
with  some  of  her  sister's  last  year's  flowers,  and  likes  it,  and 
is  delighted  with  it,  she  is  really  far  better  off  than  another 
little  girl  whose  mother  has  bought  for  her  three  new  hats 
trimmed  each  with  different  fine  things,  and  none  of  which 
suit  her,  so  that  she  declares  she  has  n't  a  thing  she  can  wear. 

Little  Pussy  had  great  need  to  be  gifted  with  this  happy 
disposition,  for  she  was  not  a  rich  man's  daughter.  Her 
father  was  a  hard-working  farmer,  who  owed  about  five 
hundred  dollars  on  his  farm  ;  and  it  was  his  object,  working 


146  LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW 

day  and  night,  to  save  up  money  enough  to  pay  for  this 
farm.  She  had  six  older  brothers,  —  great,  strong,  stamp 
ing  boys  ;  and  her  mother  was  a  feeble,  delicate  woman, 
who  had  to  do  all  the  cooking,  washing,  ironing,  making, 
and  mending  for  all  these  men  folk  without  any  help  from 
servants,  —  so  you  may  believe  she  had  small  time  to  cod 
dle  and  pet  her  baby.  In  fact,  before  Little  Pussy  Willow 
was  four  weeks  old,  she  was  lying  in  an  old  basket  tied  in 
to  a  straw-bottomed  rocking-chair,  in  the  kitchen  where  her 
mother  was  busy  about  her  work  ;  and  all  day  long  there 
she  lay,  with  her  thumb  in  her  mouth,  and  her  great,  round 
blue  eyes  contentedly  staring  at  the  kitchen  ceiling.  Once 
in  two  or  three  hours  her  mother  would  take  her  up  and 
nurse  her  a  little,  and  pull  her  clothes  down  straight  about 
her,  and  then  Pussy  would  go  off  to  sleep,  and  sleep  an 
hour  or  two,  and  then  wake  up  and  stare  at  the  kitchen 
ceiling  as  before,  and  sing  and  gurgle  to  herself  in  a  quiet 
baby  way,  that  was  quite  like  the  sound  of  the  little  brook 
behind  the  house. 

When  her  father  came  home  to  his  dinner,  he  would  seize 
her  in  his  great,  strong,  sun-browned  hands,  and  toss  her 
over  his  head,  and  her  long-armed  brothers  would  pass  her 
from  one  to  another,  like  a  little  shuttlecock,  in  a  way  that 
would  have  alarmed  many  another  baby ;  but  Pussy  took  it 
all  with  the  utmost  composure,  and  laughed  and  crowed  all 
the  more,  the  ruder  her  nursing  grew. 

"  I  say,  wife,  what  shall  we  call  her  ?  "  said  Papa  John  ; 
"  she  ?s  a  perfect  March  blossom,  —  come  just  as  the  pussy 
willows  were  out." 

"  Let 's  call  her  Pussy  Willow  then,"  said  Sam,  the  oldest 
boy  ;  and  the  rest  laughed  uproariously,  and  considered  it  a 
famous  joke, — for  when  people  work  hard  all  day,  and 
have  a  good  digestion,  it  is  not  necessary  that  a  thing 
should  be  very  funny  to  make  them  laugh  tremendously. 
In  fine,  whether  the  plant  fairies  secretly  had  a  hand  in  it, 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  147 

or  because  Brother  Sam  was  so  fond  of  his  conceit,  the  fact 
is  that,  though  the  baby  was  baptized  in  church  by  the 
name  of  Mary,  she  was  ever  afterwards  called  in  the  family 
"Pussy,"  and  " Pussy  Willow.'7  Tom,  the  second  boy, 
declared  that  her  cheeks  were  soft  and  downy  like  the  puss 
ies,  and  when  she  was  lying  in  her  cradle,  only  two  weeks 
old,  he  would  sometimes  tickle  her  cheeks  with  them  to 
bring  out  that  pretty  baby  smile  which  is  as  welcome  on  a 
little  face  as  the  first  spring  flower. 

Pussy,  having  a  tranquil  mind  and  a  good  digestion, 
throve  very  fast.  The  old  women  of  the  neighborhood  re 
marked  that  she  began  to  "  feel  her  feet  "  when  she  was  only 
a  month  old,  and  if  anybody  gave  her  the  least  chance  to 
show  off  this  accomplishment,  she  would  jump  up  and  down 
till  one's  arms  were  tired  of  holding  her ;  but  when  her 
father  or  brother  or  mother  was  weary  of  this  exercise,  and 
laid  her  flat  on  her  back  in  the  cradle,  Pussy  did  not  make 
up  a  square  mouth  and  begin  to  cry,  as  many  ill-advised 
babies  do,  but  put  her  thumb  into  her  mouth,  like  a  sensible 
little  damsel,  and  set  herself  to  seeing  what  could  be  found 
to  amuse  her  on  the  top  of  the  kitchen  wall.  There  she  saw 
the  blue  flies  coursing  up  and  down,  stopping  once  in  a 
while  to  brush  themselves  briskly  with  the  little  clothes- 
brushes  which  nature  has  put  on  the  end  of  each  of  their 
legs,  when  suddenly  they  would  sweep  round  and  round  in 
circles,  and  then  come  down  and  settle  on  Pussy's  face,  and 
walk  up  and  down  over  it,  buzzing  and  talking  with  each 
other,  first  by  her  eyes,  then  by  her  nose,  then  over  her 
forehead,  as  if  the  little  face  had  been  a  flies'  pleasure-gar 
den,  laid  out  expressly  for  them  to  amuse  themselves  in. 

Pussy  took  it  all  in  good  part,  though  sometimes  she 
winked  very  hard,  and  even  took  her  thumb  out  of  her 
mouth  to  make  some  blind  little  passes  with  her  white  baby 
fists  doubled  up,  which  would  send  the  flies  buzzing  and 
careering  again ;  but  never  a  cry  did  she  utter. 


148  LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW 

"  Of  all  the  good  babies  that  ever  I  did  see,"  said  Nurse 
Toothacre,  "  I  never  see  one  ekil  to  this.  Why,  Marthy 
Primrose  wouldn't  know  she  had  a  baby  in  the  house,  if 
she  had  n't  the  washin'  and  dressin'  and  nussin'  of  her." 

By  and  by  little  Pussy  learned  to  creep  on  all-fours,  and 
then  she  made  long  voyages  over  the  clean-scoured  kitchen 
floor,  and  had  most  beautiful  times,  because  she  could  open 
the  low  cupboard  doors  and  pull  out  all  the  things,  and  pick 
holes  in  all  the  paper  parcels,  and  pull  over  pails  of  water, 
and  then  paddle  in  the  clear  silver  flood  that  coursed  its 
way  along  the  kitchen  in  little  rivulets.  One  day  she  found 
a  paper  of  indigo  in  the  low  closet,  with  which  she  very 
busily  rubbed  her  hands  and  face  and  her  apron  and  the 
floor,  so  that  when  her  mother  came  in  from  hanging  out 
clothes  she  did  not  know  her  own  baby,  but  thought  she 
was  a  little  blue  goblin,  and  had  to  take  her  to  the  wash- 
tub  and  put  her  in  like  a  dirty  dress  to  get  her  looking  like 
herself  again. 

Now  as  Martha  Primrose  was  celebrated  as  one  of  the 
nicest  housekeepers  in  the  country,  of  course  she  could  not 
allow  such  proceedings  ;  and  as  Pussy  did  not  yet  under 
stand  English,  the  only  way  she  could  keep  her  from  them 
was  to  watch  her  and  catch  her  away,  when  she  saw  her 
going  about  any  piece  of  mischief.  In  consequence,  Baby's 
life  was  a  perfect  series  of  disappointments.  It  often  seemed 
to  her  that  she  was  stopped  in  everything  she  undertook  to 
do.  First,  she  would  scuttle  across  the  floor  to  the  kitchen 
fireplace  and  fill  both  little  hands  with  ashes  and  black  coals, 
just  to  see  what  they  were  made  of  ;  and  then  there  would 
be  a  loud  outcry,  and  she  would  be  made  to  throw  them 
down,  her  apron  would  be  shaken,  and  her  hands  washed, 
and  the  words,  "  No !  no  !  naughty  !  "  pronounced  in  very 
solemn  tones  over  her.  She  would  look  up  and  laugh,  and 
creep  away,  and  bring  up  next  by  the  dresser,  where  she 
would  reach  up  for  a  pretty,  nice  dish  of  flour  which  she 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  149 

longed  to  pull  over ;  and  then  the  "  "No  I  no ! "  and 
"  Naughty !  "  would  sound  again.  Then  Pussy  would 
laugh  again,  and  go  into  the  back  kitchen  and  begin  paddling 
in  a  delightful  pail  of  water,  which  was  to  her  the  dearest 
of  all  forbidden  amusements,  when  suddenly  she  would  be 
twitched  up  from  behind,  and  "  No  !  no  !  naughty  baby  !  " 
once  more  sounded  in  her  ear.  Pussy  heard  this  so  much  that 
it  began  to  amuse  her;  and  so,  when  her  mother  looked 
solemn  and  stern  at  her,  she  would  shake  her  little  head 
and  look  waggish,  and  try  to  imitate  the  "  No  !  no !  "  as  if 
it  were  something  said  for  her  diversion. 

"  You  can't  put  her  out,"  said  Martha  to  her  husband  j 
"  she  's  the  best  little  thing  ;  but  it  is  wonderful  the  mis 
chief  she  does.  She  just  goes  from  one  thing  to  another 
all  day  long." 

The  fact  is,  baby  once  got  a  pan  of  molasses  pulled  over 
on  her  head,  and  once  fell,  head  first,  into  her  mother's 
wash-tub,  which  luckily  had  not  at  the  time  very  hot  water 
in  it ;  and  once  she  pulled  the  tap  out  of  her  mother's  cask 
of  beer,  and  got  herself  pretty  well  blinded  and  soaked  with 
the  spurting  liquid.  But  all  these  things  did  not  disturb 
her  serenity,  and  she  took  all  the  washings  and  dressings 
and  scoldings  that  followed  with  such  jolly  good-humor  that 
the  usual  amusement,  when  her  father  and  brothers  came 
home,  was  the  recital  of  Pussy's  adventures  for  the  day ; 
and  Pussy,  sitting  on  her  father's  knee  and  discovering  her 
self  to  be  the  heroine  of  the  story,  would  clap  her  hands 
and  crow  and  laugh  as  loudly  as  any  of  them. 

"  She  's  got  more  laugh  in  her  than  a  whole  circus,"  said 
John  Primrose.  "  I  don't  want  no  theatre  nor  no  opera 
when  I  can  have  her  ; "  —  and  her  brothers,  who  used  to  be 
gone  whole  evenings  over  at  a  neighboring  tavern,  gradually 
took  to  staying  at  home  to  have  a  romp  with  little  Pussy. 
When  the  hay  about  the  old  house  was  mown,  they  had 
capital  times,  tumbling  and  rolling  with  Pussy  in  the  sweet 


150  LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW 

grass,  and  covering  her  up  and  letting  her  scratch  out  again, 
and  toss  the  hay  about  in  her  little  fat  hands,  enchanted  to 
find  that  there  was  one  thing  that  she  could  play  with  and 
not  be  called  "  Naughty  baby  !  "  or  have  "  No  !  no  ! " 
called  in  her  ear. 

In  my  next  chapter  I  will  tell  you  all  about  what  little 
Pussy  had  to  play  with,  and  what  she  did  when  she  got 
older. 


in 

I  CANNOT  make  my  young  folks  understand  just  the  value 
of  the  gift  which  fairies  brought  to  Little  Pussy  Willow, 
unless  I  tell  them  about  another  little  girl  who  did  not  have 
any  such  present,  but  had  everything  else. 

Little  Emily  Proudie  was  born  in  a  splendid  house,  with 
a  white  marble  front,  and  a  dozen  marble  steps  leading  up 
to  the  door.  Before  she  was  born  there  were  all  sorts  of 
preparations  to  receive  her,  —  whole  drawers  full  of  little 
dresses  with  worked  waists,  and  of  little  caps  trimmed  with 
pink  and  blue  rosettes,  and  cunning  little  sacks  embroidered 
with  silk  and  silver,  and  little  bonnets,  and  little  socks  and 
little  shoes,  and  sleeve-ties  with  coral  clasps,  and  little  sil 
ver  and  gold  rattles,  —  in  short,  everything  that  all  the  rich 
aunts  and  uncles  and  cousins  of  a  rich  little  baby  could 
think  of. 

To  be  sure  no  plant-fairies  came  in  at  the  window  to 
look  at  her;  but  there  were  the  fairies  of  the  milliner's 
shop,  and  the  jeweler's  shop,  and  of  all  the  shops  and 
stores  in  New  York,  and  they  endowed  the  baby  with  no 
end  of  bright  and  beautiful  things.  She  was  to  be  hand 
some  and  rich,  and  always  to  have  elegant  clothes,  and  live 
in  a  palace,  and  have  fine  horses  and  carriages,  and  every 
thing  to  eat  and  to  drink  that  she  could  fancy,  —  and  there 
fore  everybody  must  think  that  this  little  girl  would  be 
happy. 

But  this  one  plain  gift  that  the  poor  Little  Pussy  Wil 
low  brought  was  left  out  in  all  Emily's  treasures.  No 
good  fairy  ever  gave  her  the  gift  of  liking  everything  she 


152  LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW 

had,  and  seeing  the  hright  side  of  everything.  If  she  had 
only  had  this  gift,  she  might  have  heen  as  much  happier 
than  our  Little  Pussy  Willow  as  she  had  more  things  to 
be  happy  with;  hut  as  she  did  not  have  it,  she  grew  up, 
notwithstanding  all  her  treasures,  to  be  a  fretful,  discon 
tented  little  girl. 

At  the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  these  two  little  girls  are 
each  of  them  to  be  seen  in  very  different  circumstances. 
It  is  now  the  seventh  birthday  of  Little  Pussy  Willow; 
and  you  might  think,  perhaps,  that  she  was  going  to  have 
a  holiday,  or  some  birthday  presents,  or  a  birthday  party. 
But  no,  it  is  not  so.  Pussy's  mother  is  a  poor  hard-work 
ing  woman,  who  never  found  any  time  to  pet  her  children, 
though  she  loved  them  as  much  as  any  other  mother. 
Besides,  where  she  lived,  nobody  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing  as  celebrating  a  child's  birthday.  Pussy  never  had 
had  a  present  made  to  her  in  all  her  little  life.  She  never 
had  had  a  plaything,  except  the  bright  yellow  dandelions 
in  spring,  or  the  pussies  of  the  willow-bush,  or  the  cat-tails 
which  her  brothers  sometimes  brought  home  in  their  pock 
ets;  and  to-day,  though  it  is  her  birthday,  Pussy  is  sitting 
in  a  little  chair,  learning  to  sew  on  some  patchwork,  while 
her  mother  is  kneading  up  bread  in  the  kitchen  beside 
her.  There  is  a  yellow  mug  standing  on  the  table,  with 
some  pussy-willow  sprigs  in  it,  which  have  blossomed  out 
early  this  spring,  and  which  her  father  broke  off  for  her 
before  he  went  to  his  work;  and  Pussy  sits  pulling  her 
needle  through  the  gay  squares  of  calico,  and  giving  it  a 
push  with  the  little  yellow  brass  thimble.  Sometimes  she 
stops  a  minute  to  speak  to  the  little  pussies,  and  touch 
their  downy  heads  to  her  cheek,  and  sometimes  she  puts 
up  her  little  mouth  to  kiss  her  mother,  who  comes  to  her 
with  her  hands  all  covered  with  flour;  and  then  she  tugs 
away  again  most  industriously  with  her  needle,  till  the 
small  square  is  finished,  and  she  says,  "May  I  get  down 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  153 

and  play  now? "  And  mamma  says,  "Wait  a  moment  till 
I  get  my  hands  out  of  the  bread."  And  mamma  kneads 
and  rolls  the  great  white  cushion  in  the  bread-bowl,  and 
turns  it  over  and  over,  and  rubs  every  bit  and  morsel  of 
loose  white  flour  into  it,  and  kneads  it  smoothly  in,  and 
then,  taking  it  up  once  more,  throws  it  down  in  the  bowl, 
a  great,  smooth,  snowy  hill  of  dough,  in  the  middle  of 
which  she  leaves  one  fist-print;  and  then  she  rubs  her 
hands  from  the  flour  and  paste,  and  washes  them  clean, 
and  comes  and  takes  up  Pussy,  and  sets  her  down  on  the 
floor;  and  Pussy  forthwith  goes  to  a  lower  cupboard  where 
are  her  treasures. 

And  what  are  they  ?  They  are  the  fragment  of  an  old 
milk-pitcher,  and  the  nose  and  handle  of  a  tea-pot,  and 
ever  so  many  little  bits  of  broken  china,  and  one  little  old 
sleigh-bell  which  her  grandfather  gave  her.  There  is  a 
rag-doll  made  up  on  a  clothes-pin,  which  Pussy  every  day 
washes,  dresses,  puts  to  bed,  takes  up,  teaches  to  sew, 
and,  in  short,  educates  to  the  best  of  her  little  ability  in 
the  way  in  which  she  is  herself  being  brought  up.  And 
there  are  several  little  strips  of  bright  red  and  yellow  calico 
which  she  prizes  greatly,  besides  a  handful  of  choice  long 
curly  shavings,  which  she  got  at  a  carpenter's  bench  when 
her  mother  took  her  up  to  the  village. 

Pussy  is  perfectly  happy  in  these  treasures,  and  has 
been  sewing  very  industriously  all  the  morning,  that  she 
may  get  to  the  dear  closet  where  they  are  kept.  Then  for 
playmates  she  has  only  a  great,  grave,  old,  yellow  dog 
named  Bose,  who,  the  minute  he  sees  Pussy  get  down, 
comes  soberly  patting  up  to  her,  wagging  his  tail.  And 
little  Pussy  gathers  all  her  treasures  in  her  short  checked 
apron,  and  goes  out  under  the  great  elm-tree  to  play  with 
Bose ;  and  she  is  now  perfectly  happy. 

She  makes  a  little  house  out  of  her  bits  of  broken  china, 
arranged  in  squares  on  the  turf;  she  ties  a  limp  sun-bonnet 


154  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

on  Bose's  head,  and  makes  believe  that  he  is  mother  to 
the  clothes-pin  rag-baby,  and  tells  him  he  must  rock  it  to 
sleep;  and  Bose  looks  very  serious  and  obedient,  and  sits 
over  the  baby  while  Pussy  pretends  to  yoke  up  oxen  and 
go  off  to  the  fields  to  work. 

By  and  by  Bose  thinks  this  has  lasted  long  enough,  and 
comes  scampering  after  her,  with  the  sun-bonnet  very 
much  over  one  eye;  and  then  he  gets  talked  to,  and 
admonished,  and  led  back  to  his  duty.  He  gets  very 
tired  of  it  sometimes;  and  Pussy  has  to  vary  the  play  by 
letting  him  have  a  scamper  with  her  down  to  the  brook, 
to  watch  the  tiny  little  fish  that  whisk  and  dart  among  the 
golden  rings  of  sunlight  under  the  bright  brown  waters. 

Hour  after  hour  passes,  and  Pussy  grows  happier  every 
minute;  for  the  sun  shines,  and  the  sky  is  blue,  and  Bose 
is  capital  company,  and  she  has  so  many  pretty  playthings! 

When  Pussy  lies  down  in  her  little  crib  at  night,  she 
prays  God  to  bless  her  dear  father  and  mother,  and  her 
dear  brothers,  and  Bose,  and  dolly,  and  all  the  dear  Little 
Pussy  Willows.  The  first  part  of  the  prayer  her  mother 
taught  her,  —  the  last  part  she  made  up  herself,  out  of  her 
own  curly  head  and  happy  little  heart,  and  she  does  not 
doubt  in  the  least  that  the  good  God  hears  the  last  as 
much  as  the  first. 

Now  this  is  the  picture  of  what  took  place  on  little 
Pussy's  seventh  birthday:  but  you  must  see  what  took 
place  on  little  Emily's  seventh  birthday,  which  was  to  be 
kept  with  great  pomp  and  splendor.  From  early  morning 
the  door-bell  was  kept  constantly  ringing  on  account  of  the 
presents  that  were  being  sent  in  to  Emily.  I  could  not 
begin  to  tell  you  half  of  them.  There  was  a  great  doll 
from  Paris,  with  clothes  all  made  to  take  off  and  put  on, 
and  a  doll's  bureau  full  of  petticoats  and  drawers  and 
aprons  and  stockings  and  collars  and  cuffs  and  elegant 
dresses  for  Miss  Dolly;  and  there  were  little  bandboxes 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  155 

with  ever  so  many  little  bonnets,  and  little  parasols,  and 
little  card-cases,  and  nobody  knows  what,  — all  for  Miss 
Dolly.  Then  there  were  bracelets  and  rings  and  pins  for 
little  Emily  herself,  and  a  gold  drinking- cup  set  with 
diamonds,  and  every  sort  of  plaything  that  any  one  could 
think  of,  till  a  whole  room  was  filled  with  Emily's  birth 
day  presents. 

Nevertheless,  Emily  was  not  happy.  In  fact,  she  was 
very  unhappy ;  and  the  reason  was  that  the  pink  silk  dress 
she  wanted  to  wear  had  not  come  home  from  the  dress 
maker's,  and  no  other  dress  in  the  world  would  in  the 
least  do  for  her. 

In  vain  mamma  and  two  nurses  talked  and  persuaded, 
and  showed  her  her  presents;  she  wanted  exactly  the  only 
thing  that  could  not  be  got,  and  nothing  but  that  seemed 
of  any  value  in  her  eyes.  The  whole  house  was  in  com 
motion  about  this  dress,  and  messengers  were  kept  running 
backward  and  forward  to  Madame  Follet's;  but  it  was 
almost  night  before  it  came,  and  neither  Emily  nor  any  of 
her  friends  could  have  any  peace  until  then. 

The  fact  is  that  the  little  girl  had  been  so  industriously 
petted  ever  since  she  was  born,  and  had  had  so  many  play 
things  and  presents,  that  there  was  not  anything  that  could 
be  given  her  which  seemed  half  as  pretty  to  her  as  two  or 
three  long  clean,  curly  shavings  seemed  to  Little  Pussy 
Willow;  and  then,  unfortunately,  no  good  fairy  had  given 
her  the  gift  of  being  easily  pleased;  so  that,  with  every 
body  working  and  trying  from  morning  to  night  to  please 
her,  little  Emily  was  always  in  a  fret  or  a  worry  about 
something.  Her  mother  said  that  the  dear  child  had  such 
a  fastidious  taste !  —  that  she  was  so  sensitive !  —  but 
whatever  the  reason  might  be,  Emily  was  never  very 
happy.  Instead  of  thinking  of  the  things  she  had,  and 
liking  them,  she  was  always  fretting  about  something  that 
she  had  not  or  could  not  get;  and  when  the  things  she 


156  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

most  longed  for  at  last  came  into  her  hands,  suddenly  she 
found  that  she  had  ceased  to  want  them. 

Her  seventh  birthday  ended  with  a  children's  ball,  to 
which  all  the  little  children  of  her  acquaintance  were  in 
vited,  and  there  was  a  band  of  music,  and  an  exquisite 
supper  and  fireworks  on  the  lawn  near  the  house;  and 
Emily  appeared  in  the  very  pink  silk  dress  she  had  set  her 
heart  on;  but  alas!  she  was  not  happy.  For  Madame 
Follet  had  not  put  on  the  flounces,  as  she  promised,  and 
the  sash  had  no  silver  fringe.  This  melancholy  discovery 
was  made  when  it  was  entirely  too  late  to  help  it,  and 
poor  Emily  was  in  low  spirits  all  the  evening. 

"She  is  too  sensitive  for  this  life,"  said  her  mamma,  — 
"the  sweet  little  angel!" 

Emily  sunk  to  sleep  about  midnight,  hot,  tired,  fever 
ish.  She  cried  herself  to  sleep.  Why?  She  could  not 
tell.  Can  you? 


IV 

AND  now  some  of  my  little  friends  perhaps  have  a  ques 
tion  to  ask  me.  Is  not  a  little  girl  more  likely  to  be  happy 
who  is  brought  up  in  the  simple  and  natural  way  in  which 
Pussy  Willow  has  grown  up,  than  one  who  has  had  all 
that  has  been  given  to  Emily  Proudie  ? 

I  began  by  telling  you  that  the  gift  of  being  easily 
pleased  was  what  made  the  difference  between  the  two 
little  girls,  —  that  it  was  a  gift  worth  more  than  beauty, 
or  riches,  or  anything  else  that  could  be  thought  of. 

But  I  do  think  that  a  way  of  "  bringing-up  "  like  that 
in  which  poor  little  Emily  was  educated  is  the  surest  way 
to  destroy  this  gift,  even  if  a  girl's  birth  fairies  had  given 
it  to  her.  You  know  very  well  that,  when  you  have  been 
taking  a  lonely  scramble  among  the  rocks  until  long  after 
your  dinner-time,  a  plain  crust  of  bread  tastes  so  sweet  to 
you  that  you  wonder  you  ever  have  wanted  cake  or  ginger 
bread;  and  that  sometimes,  in  like  manner,  when  you  have 
walked  till  you  are  hot  and  thirsty,  you  have  dipped  up 
the  water  out  of  some  wild-wood  spring,  and  drank  it 
with  an  enjoyment  such  as  the  very  best  tea  or  coffee  or 
lemonade  never  gave.  That  was  because  you  were  really 
hungry  or  really  thirsty;  and  the  pleasure  you  get  from 
food  and  drink  can  never  be  known  unless  you  become 
really  hungry  and  thirsty. 

But  many  poor  little  children  are  brought  up  in  such  a 
way  that  they  never  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  real  desire 
for  anything.  They  are  like  a  child  stuffed  with  cake  and 
sweetmeats  from  morning  till  night.  Every  wish  is  antici- 


158  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

pated,  and  pleasures  are  crowded  upon  them  so  fast  that 
they  have  none  of  the  enjoyments  of  wishing,  planning, 
and  contriving  which  come  to  those  who  are  left  to  seek 
their  own  pleasures  and  make  their  own  way.  The  good 
God  has  so  made  us  that  the  enjoyments  which  come  to  us 
through  the  use  of  our  own  faculties  are  a  great  deal  more 
satisfactory  than  those  which  are  brought  to  us  by  others. 
Many  a  little  girl  enjoys  making  a  sand-pie  out  in  the  road 
far  more  than  she  would  the  most  expensive  playthings, 
because  she  trots  about  in  making  it,  runs,  laughs,  works, 
gets  herself  into  a  healthy  glow,  and  feels  that  she  is  doing 
something. 

Poor  little  Emily  Proudie  never  had  that  pleasure. 
From  the  time  she  was  a  baby,  she  has  had  constantly  one, 
two,  or  three  attendants,  whose  sole  business  it  is  to  play 
with  her  and  to  contrive  playthings  and  amusements  for 
her,  —  and  a  very  wearisome  time  they  all  have  had  of  it. 
Yes,  I  do  believe  that  if  little  Emily,  without  any  more 
of  a  gift  of  being  pleased  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  all  chil 
dren,  had  been  brought  up  exactly  as  Pussy  Willow  was, 
she  would  have  been  far  happier  than  she  is  now. 

There  is  another  reason  why  Pussy  Willow  was  grow 
ing  up  happy,  and  that  is,  that  she  was  every  day  doing 
something  that  she  felt  was  of  some  use.  When  she  was 
so  little  that  her  head  scarcely  came  above  the  table,  she 
used  to  stand  propped  on  a  small  stool  and  wash  the  break 
fast  cups  and  spoons,  —  and  very  proud  she  was  of  doing 
it.  How  she  admired  the  bright  bubbles  which  she  could 
make  in  the  clean,  soapy  water,  and  how  proud  she  was  of 
seeing  the  cups  and  spoons  look  so  clear  and  bright  as  she 
rubbed  them  with  her  towel!  —  and  then,  getting  down, 
she  would  trip  across  the  kitchen  with  them,  one  or  two 
at  a  time,  and,  rising  on  her  little  toes,  by  great  good  luck 
she  could  just  get  them  on  to  the  cupboard  shelf;  and  then 
she  would  hang  her  towel  on  its  nail,  and  empty  her  dish- 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  159 

pan,  and  wipe  off  the  table,  and  feel  quite  like  a  large 
woman  in  doing  it. 

When  Pussy  was  ten  years  old,  her  mother  one  day 
hurt  her  arm  by  a  fall,  so  that  she  had  to  wear  it  in  a 
sling.  This  would  not  be  an  agreeable  thing  to  happen  to 
anybody's  mamma;  but  Pussy's  mother  had  no  servants, 
and  everything  that  was  to  be  eaten  in  the  house  had  to 
be  made  up  by  her  one  pair  of  hands,  and  she  therefore 
felt  quite  troubled,  as  the  house  was  far  from  neighbors, 
and  there  were  a  husband  and  four  hungry  young  men  to 
be  fed. 

In  a  city  you  can  send  out  to  a  bakery;  but  in  the 
country  what  is  to  be  done? 

"I  really  think  you  '11  have  to  harness  and  drive  the  old 
mare  over  to  Aunt  Judy's,  and  get  her  to  come  over,"  said 
Pussy's  mother. 

"That's  a  trouble,"  said  her  father.  "The  hay  is  all 
ready  to  get  in,  and  there  will  certainly  be  rain  by  after 
noon.  The  horse  cannot  possibly  be  spared." 

"Now,  mother,  just  let  me  make  bread,"  said  Pussy, 
feeling  very  large.  "I've  seen  you  do  it,  time  and  time 
again,  and  I  know  I  could  do  it." 

"Hurrah  for  Pussy!"  said  her  brothers;  —  "she's  a 
trump.  You  let  her  try,  — she  '11  do  it." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  her  father.  "I'd  rather  have  my 
little  Pussy  than  a  dozen  Aunt  Judys." 

Pussy  was  wonderfully  elated  by  this  praise,  and  got 
one  of  her  mother's  aprons  and  tied  it  round  her,  — which, 
to  say  the  truth,  came  quite  down  to  her  ankles,  and  made 
her  feel  very  old  and  wise. 

Her  mother  now  told  her  that  she  might  go  into  the 
buttery  and  sift  eight  quarts  of  flour  into  the  bread-tray, 
and  bring  it  out,  and  she  would  show  her  just  how  to  wet 
it. 

So  away  went  Pussy ;  and  right  pleased  was  she  to  get 


160  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

her  little  rosy  hands  into  the  flour.  It  was  far  more  amus 
ing  than  making  believe  make  bread  with  sand,  as  she  had 
often  done  when  she  and  Bose  were  out  playing  together. 
So  she  patted  and  sifted,  and  soon  came  out  lifting  the 
bread-tray,  and  set  it  beside  her  mother. 

"Now  scatter  in  a  handful  of  salt,'7  said  her  mother. 

Pussy  did  so. 

"Now  make  a  little  hole  in  the  middle,  and  measure 
three  gills  of  yeast,  and  put  that  in  the  hole." 

Pussy  found  this  quite  easy,  because  their  tin  quart- 
measure  was  marked  around  with  rings  for  the  gills;  and 
so,  when  her  yeast  was  up  to  the  third  ring,  she  poured  it 
into  the  hole  in  the  middle  of  the  flour,  and  began  stirring 
it  with  a  spoon,  till  she  had  made  a  nice  little  foamy  lake 
in  the  middle  of  her  mountain  of  puffy  white  flour. 

"And  now  for  your  wetting,  Pussy,"  said  her  mother. 
"  You  want  about  a  quart  of  hot  water  and  a  quart  of  good 
milk  to  begin  with,  and  we  '11  see  how  you  go  on.  But 
I  'm  a  little  afraid  you're  not  strong  enough  to  knead  such 
a  big  batch." 

"Oh,  mother,  I 'm  a  large  girl  now,"  said  Pussy,  "and 
you  've  no  idea  how  strong  I  am!  I  want  to  knead  a  real 
batch,  just  such  as  you  do,  and  not  a  little  play  batch,  — 
a  baby's  batch." 

"Well,  well,  we'll  try  it,"  said  her  mother;  "and  I'll 
pour  in  your  wetting."  So  she  began  to  pour  in,  and 
Pussy  plumped  in  both  hands,  and  went  at  her  work  with 
a  relish. 

The  flour  stuck  to  her  fingers;  but  she  stirred  about 
with  vigor,  and  made  her  little  hands  fly  so  fast  that  her 
mother  said  they  did  the  work  of  bigger  ones.  By  and 
by  the  flour  was  all  stiffly  mixed,  and  now  Pussy  put  out 
all  her  little  strength,  and  bent  over  the  tray,  kneading 
and  kneading,  and  turning  and  turning,  till  the  paste 
began  to  look  white  and  smooth. 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  161 

"Oh  mother,  I  like  this!  —  it's  the  best  fun  I  ever 
had,77  said  Pussy.  "How  soft  and  smooth  I  am  getting 
it!  It 's  beginning  to  rise,  I  do  believe,  this  very  minute; 
I  can  feel  it  rising  under  my  hands.  I  shall  be  so  proud 
to  show  it  to  father  and  the  boys !  Mother,  you  '11  always 
let  me  make  the  bread,  won't  you  1 " 

"We '11  see,"  said  her  mother.  "Mind  you  knead  in 
every  bit  of  the  flour.  Don't  leave  any  on  the  sides  of 
the  pan.  Rub  all  those  ragged  patches  together,  and  knead 
them  in.  You  are  getting  it  quite  smooth." 

In  fine,  Pussy,  elated,  took  up  the  whole  white  round 
cushion  of  dough  and  turned  it  over  in  the  tray,  as  she 
had  seen  her  mother  do,  and  left  one  very  little  fist-mark 
in  the  centre.  "There  now,  Mrs.  Bread,  there  you  are," 
she  said;  "now  I  shall  tuck  you  up  warm  and  put  you  to 
sleep,  till  it's  time  to  take  you  up  and  bake  you."  So 
Pussy  covered  her  bread  up  warm  with  an  old  piece  of 
quilt  which  her  mother  kept  for  this  special  purpose;  then 
she  washed  her  hands,  and  put  away  all  the  dishes  she  had 
been  using,  and  swept  up  the  flour  she  had  dropped  on  her 
mother's  clean,  shining  floor. 

"And  now,  mother,  shall  I  put  on  the  dinner  pot1?" 
said  Pussy,  who  felt  herself  growing  in  importance. 

"Yes,  you  may  put  it  on;  and  then  you  may  go  down 
cellar,  and  get  a  piece  of  beef  and  a  piece  of  pork,  and 
bring  them  up  for  dinner." 

And  away  tripped  Pussy  down  cellar,  and  soon  appeared 
again  with  her  pan  full  of  provisions.  After  that  she 
washed  the  potatoes  and  turnips,  and  very  soon  the  dinner 
was  on  the  stove,  boiling. 

"Now,  Pussy,"  said  her  mother,  "you  can  go  and  play 
down  by  the  brook  for  an  hour  and  a  half." 

"Mother,"  said  Pussy,  "I  like  working  better  than 
play."  . 

"It  is  play  to  you  now,"  said  her  mother;  "but  if  you 
had  to  do  these  things  every  day,  you  might  get  tired." 


162  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

Pussy  thought  not,  —  she  was  quite  sure  not.  Never 
theless,  she  took  her  Dolly  and  Bose,  and  went  down  to 
the  brook,  and  had  a  good  time  among  the  sweet-flags. 
But  her  mind  kept  running  on  her  bread,  and  every  once 
in  a  while  she  came  running  back  to  peep  under  the  little 
quilt. 

Yes,  sure  enough,  there  it  was,  rising  as  light  and  as 
nice  as  any  Pussy's  heart  could  desire.  And  how  proud 
and  important  she  felt ! 

"It  was  real  lively  yeast,"  said  her  mother.  "I  knew 
it  would  rise  quickly." 

Well,  I  need  not  tell  my  little  readers  the  whole  history 
of  this  wonderful  batch  of  bread,  —  how  in  time  Pussy  got 
down  the  moulding-board,  all  herself,  and  put  it  on  the 
kitchen  table;  and  how  she  cut  her  loaves  off,  and  rolled, 
and  kneaded,  and  patted,  and  so  coaxed  them  into  the 
very  nicest  little  white  cushions  that  ever  were  put  into 
buttered  bake- pans.  One  small  portion  Pussy  left  to  be 
divided  into  round  delicate  little  biscuits ;  and  it  was  good 
fun  for  her  to  cut  and  roll  and  shape  these  into  the  pret 
tiest  little  pincushions,  and  put  them  in  white,  even  rows 
into  the  pans,  and  prick  two  small  holes  in  the  top  of 
each. 

When  all  these  evolutions  had  been  performed,  then 
came  the  baking;  and  very  busy  was  Pussy  putting  in  her 
pans,  watching  and  turning  and  shifting  them,  so  that 
each  might  get  its  proper  portion  of  nice,  sweet,  golden- 
brown  crust. 

She  burnt  her  fingers  once  or  twice,  but  she  didn't 
mind  that  when  she  drew  her  great  beautiful  loaves  from 
the  oven,  and  her  mother  tapped  on  them  with  her  thimble 
and  pronounced  them  done.  Such  a  row  of  nice  loaves,  — 
all  her  own  making !  Pussy  danced  around  the  table  where 
she  had  ranged  them,  and  then,  in  the  pride  of  her  heart, 
called  Bose  to  look  at  them. 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  163 

Bose  licked  his  chops,  and  looked  as  appreciative  as  a 
dog  could,  and,  seeing  that  something  was  expected  of  him, 
barked  aloud  for  joy. 

That  night  Pussy's  biscuits  were  served  for  supper,  with 
the  cold  beef  and  pork,  and  Pussy  was  loudly  praised  on 
all  sides. 

"Wife,  you'll  take  your  ease  now,"  said  her  father, 
"since  you  have  such  a  little  housekeeper  sent  to  you." 

Pussy  was  happier  that  night  than  if  three  servants  had 
been  busy  dressing  dolls  for  her  all  day. 

"Mother,"  she  said,  soberly,  when  she  lay  down  in  her 
little  bed  that  night,  "I  Jm  going  to  ask  God  to  keep  me 
humble." 

"  Why,  my  dear  1 " 

"  Because  I  feel  tempted  to  be  proud,  —  I  can  make 
such  good  bread ! " 


PUSSY  WILLOW  was  so  happy  and  proud  at  her  success 
in  making  bread,  that  she  now  felt  a  very  grown-up  woman 
indeed;  and  her  idea  of  a  grown-up  woman  was,  as  you 
will  see,  that  of  a  person  able  and  willing  to  do  something 
to  some  useful  purpose.  Some  of  my  readers  may  think 
that  a  little  girl  ten  years  of  age  could  not  knead  up  and 
bake  a  batch  of  bread  like  that  which  Pussy  is  described 
as  doing;  but  they  must  remember  that  little  girls  who 
grow  up  in  the  healthy  air  of  the  mountains,  and  who 
have  always  lived  a  great  part  of  their  time  in  the  open 
air,  and  have  been  trained  to  the  use  of  their  arms  and 
hands  from  early  infancy,  become  larger  and  stronger  than 
those  who  have  been  nursed  in  cities,  and  who  never  have 
done  anything  but  arrange  dolls'  baby-houses,  and  play  at 
giving  and  receiving  company. 

Pussy  was  as  strong  a  little  mountaineer  as  you  could 
wish  to  see;  and  now  that  her  mother  was  laid  up  with 
a  lame  arm,  Pussy  daily  gloried  in  her  strength.  "How 
lucky  it  is,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she  was  dressing  in  the 
morning,  "  that  I  have  got  to  be  such  a  large  girl !  What 
mother  would  do  without  me,  I  'm  sure  I  don't  see.  Well 
now,  if  I  can  make  bread  and  biscuit,  I  'm  sure  I  can  make 
gingerbread  and  pies;  and  father  and  the  boys  will  never 
miss  anything.  Oh,  I  '11  not  let  grass  grow  under  my 
feet." 

This  was  in  the  dim  gray  of  the  morning,  before  another 
soul  was  awake  in  the  house,  when  Pussy  was  up  bright 
and  early ;  for  she  had  formed  the  design  of  getting  up  and 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  165 

making  breakfast  ready,  all  of  her  own  self,  before  any 
body  should  be  up  to  call  her  or  ask  her  to  do  it.  For 
you  must  know  it  was  Pussy's  nature  to  like  to  run  before 
people's  expectations.  She  took  a  great  interest  in  sur 
prising  people,  and  doing  more  than  they  expected;  and 
she  thought  to  herself,  as  she  softly  tiptoed  down  the 
stairs:  "Now  I  shall  have  the  fire  all  made,  and  the  tea 
kettle  boiling,  by  the  time  that  mother  wakes.  I  know 
she  '11  wake  thinking  '  I  must  go  and  call  Pussy,  and  ask 
her  to  get  breakfast.'  How  surprised  she'll  be  to  find 
Pussy  up  and  dressed,  the  fire  made,  and  the  kettle  boil 
ing,  and  breakfast  just  ready  to  go  on!  " 

So  Pussy  softly  felt  her  way  into  the  kitchen,  where  it 
was  hardly  light  as  yet,  and  found  the  water-pail,  and 
then,  opening  the  kitchen-door,  she  started  for  the  little 
spring  back  of  the  house  for  a  pail  of  water.  It  had  been 
Pussy's  work  from  her  earliest  years  to  bring  water  from 
this  spring  to  her  mother,  —  at  first  in  tiny  little  pails, 
but  gradually,  as  she  grew  older  and  bigger,  in  larger  ones, 
till  now  she  could  lift  the  full-sized  water-pail,  which  she 
had  on  her  arm. 

"So  here  you  are,  Mr.  Robin,"  said  Pussy,  as  she 
stepped  out  of  the  door  and  heard  a  lively  note  struck  up 
from  the  willow-bush  by  the  window.  "You  and  I  are 
up  early  this  morning,  ar'n't  we?  Ha,  ha,  old  Mr.  Chip 
munk,  —  is  that  you  1  Take  care  of  yourself,  or  I  shall 
catch  you.  You  are  up  getting  breakfast  for  your  family, 
and  I  for  mine.  Mother  is  sick,  and  I  'm  housekeeper 
now,  Mr.  Chip."  So  saying,  Pussy  splashed  her  pail 
down  among  the  fern-leaves  that  bordered  the  edges  of  the 
spring,  and  laughed  to  see  the  bright,  clear  water  ripple 
into  it;  and  having  filled  it,  she  drew  it  up  all  glittering 
and  dripping  with  diamond-bright  drops,  which  fell  back 
again  into  the  little  spring. 

"There  's  a  girl  for  you!  "  said  old  Mother  Fern,  when 


166  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

Pussy  had  turned  her  back  on  the  spring.  "That  girl 
does  credit  to  our  teaching.  Every  feeling  of  her  heart  is 
as  fresh  and  clear  as  spring-water,  and  she  goes  on  doing 
good  just  as  the  brook  runs  in  a  bright,  merry  stream. 
That  girl  will  never  know  what  it  is  to  be  nervous  or 
low-spirited,  or  have  the  dyspepsia,  or  any  of  the  other 
troubles  that  come  on  the  lazy  daughters  of  men.  And  it 
all  comes  of  the  gifts  that  we  wood-fairies  have  brought 
her.  She  takes  everything  by  the  smooth  handle,  and  sees 
everything  on  the  bright  side,  and  enjoys  her  work  a  great 
deal  more  than  most  children  do  their  play." 

Meanwhile  Pussy  had  gone  in  and  kindled  the  fire  in 
the  stove,  and  set  over  the  tea-kettle,  and  now  was  busy 
sifting  some  meal  to  make  some  corn-cakes  for  breakfast. 

"I've  seen  mother  do  this  often  enough,"  she  said, 
"and  I'll  surprise  her  by  getting  it  all  nicely  into  the 
oven  without  her  saying  a  word  about  it."  So  she  ran  in 
all  haste  to  the  buttery,  where  stood  a  pan  of  milk  which 
had  turned  deliciously  sour,  and  shook  and  quivered  as 
she  moved  it,  like  some  kind  of  delicate  white  jelly  with 
a  golden  coating  of  cream  over  it.  •  A  spoonful  of  soda  soon 
made  this  white  jelly  a  mass  of  foam,  and  then  a  teacupful 
of  bright,  amber-colored  molasses  was  turned  into  it,  and 
then  it  was  beaten  into  a  stiff  mass  with  the  sifted  corn- 
meal,  and  poured  into  well-buttered  pans  to  be  baked. 
Pussy  was  really  quite  amused  at  all  this  process.  She 
was  delighted  to  find  that  the  cake  would  actually  foam 
under  her  hands  as  she  had  often  seen  it  under  her  mo 
ther's,  and  when  she  shut  the  oven-doors  on  her  experi 
ment  it  was  with  a  beating  heart. 

"I  do  believe,  mother,"  said  Pussy's  father,  opening 
one  eye  and  giving  a  great  stretch,  —  "I  do  believe  Pussy 
is  up  before  you." 

"  Good  child ! "  said  her  mother,  "  she  is  making  the 
fire  for  me.  With  a  little  instruction  she  will  be  able  to 
make  a  corn-cake  nicely." 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  1G7 

Pussy's  voice  was  now  heard  at  the  door.  "Mother! 
mother!  sha'n't  I  come  in  and  help  you  dress?"  —  and  a 
bright  little  face  followed  the  voice,  and  peeped  in  at  the 
crack  of  the  door. 

"Thank  you,  dear  child;  I  was  just  thinking  of  coming 
to  call  you.  I  wanted  you  to  make  the  fire  for  me." 

"It 's  made,  mother,  — long  ago." 

"What  a  good  girl!  Well  then,  you  may  just  get  a 
pail  of  water  and  fill  the  tea-kettle." 

"  I  got  the  water  and  filled  the  kettle  half  an  hour  ago, 
mother,"  said  Pussy,  "and  you  can't  think  how  it's  boil 
ing  !  puffing  away  like  a  steamboat,  —  and  I'  ve  put  the 
coffee  on  to  boil,  and  "  — 

"You  have  been  a  very  good  girl,"  said  her  mother,  as 
Pussy  was  helping  her  into  her  gown.  "You  are  such  a 
nice  handy  little  housekeeper  that  I  think  I  can  easily 
show  you  how  to  get  the  whole  breakfast.  Would  n't  you 
like  to  have  me  teach  you  how  to  mix  the  corn-cakes ! " 

Oh,  then  how  Pussy  laughed  and  crowed,  as  she  led  her 
mother  into  the  kitchen,  and,  opening  the  oven-door, 
showed  her  corn- cakes  rising  as  nicely  as  could  be,  and 
baking  with  a  real  lovely  golden  brown !  And  besides  that 
there  were  slices  of  ham  that  she  had  cut  and  trimmed  so 
neatly,  lying  all  ready  to  be  put  into  the  frying-pan. 

How  Pussy  enjoyed  that  breakfast!  The  cakes  were  as 
light  and  golden  as  her  mother's  best,  and  Pussy  had  all 
the  glory  of  them,  for  she  had  made  them  all  by  herself. 
I  don't  think  Miss  Emily  Proudie  ever  felt  so  delighted 
to  walk  out  in  a  new  hat  and  feather  as  did  little  Pussy  to 
be  able  to  get  this  breakfast  for  her  mother,  and  to  hear 
the  praises  of  her  father  and  brothers  on  everything  she 
had  made. 

It  would  be  amusing  if  the  good  fairies  would  let  us 
ride  on  a  bit  of  their  fairy  carpet  through  the  air  on  this 
same  bright  morning,  when  Pussy  was  so  gay  and  happy 


168  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

in  her  household  cares,  and  set  us  down  in  the  elegant 
chamber  where  little  Emily  was  sleeping.  Everything 
about  the  room  shows  such  a  study  to  please  the  sleeping 
child !  The  walls  are  hung  with  lovely  pictures ;  the  floor 
is  carpeted  with  the  most  charming  carpet;  the  sofas  and 
chairs  and  lounges  are  all  of  the  most  elegant  shapes,  and 
spread  out  upon  the  sofa  is  a  beautiful  new  walking-dress, 
which  came  home  after  little  Emily  went  to  bed  last  night, 
and  which  is  spread  out  so  as  to  catch  her  eye  the  first 
thing  when  she  wakes  in  the  morning.  It  is  now  past 
eight  o'clock,  and  Pussy  Willow  has  long  since  washed 
all  the  dishes,  and  arranged  the  kitchen,  and  done  the 
morning  work  in  the  farmhouse,  and  has  gone  out  with 
her  little  basket  on  her  arm  to  dig  roots,  and  pull  young 
winter-green  for  beer;  but  all  this  while  little  Emily  has 
been  drowsily  turning  from  side  to  side,  and  uneasily 
brushing  off  the  busy  flies  that  seem  determined  she  shall 
not  sleep  any  longer. 

"  Come  now,  Miss  Emily !  your  mamma  says  you  'must 
wake  up  and  see  your  pretty  new  dress,"  says  Bridget, 
who  has  been  in  four  times  before,  to  try  and  wake  the 
little  sleeper.  Emily  sits  up  in  bed  at  last,  and  calls  for 
the  new  dress. 

"So,  she's  got  it  done  at  last, — that  hateful  Madame 
Tulleruche!  She  always  keeps  me  waiting  so  long  that 
I  am  tired  to  death.  But  there !  —  she  has  gone  and  put 
that  trimming  on  in  folds,  and  I  told  her  I  wanted  puffs. 
The  dress  is  just  ruined.  Take  it  away,  Bridget.  I  can't 
bear  the  sight  of  it.  I  do  wonder  what  is  the  reason  that 
I  never  can  have  anything  done  as  other  girls  can. 
There  's  always  something  the  matter  with  my  things." 

"Troth,  Miss  Emily,  it 's  jist  that  ye  's  got  too  much  of 
ivry thing,  and  your  stomach  is  kept  turned  all  the  time," 
said  Bridget.  "If  ye  had  to  work  as  I  do  for  your  new 
dresses,  ye  'd  like  'em  better,  that 's  what  ye  would.  I 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  169 

tell  ye  what  would  do  ye  more  good  than  all  the  fine  things 
ye  's  got,  and  that  same  's  a  continted  mind." 

"But  how  can  I  be  contented,"  said  Emily,  "when 
nothing  ever  suits  me  1  I  'm  so  particular,  —  mamma  says 
so.  I  'm  so,  and  I  can't  help  it,  and  nobody  ever  does  do 
anything  quite  as  I  like  it;  and  so  I  am  unhappy  all  the 
time." 

"And  what  if  ye  did  something  for  somebody  else, 
instead  of  having  everybody  else  a-serving  ye?  "  said 
Bridget.  "I  works  from  morning  to  night,  and  gets  my 
two  dollars  a  week,  and  sends  the  most  part  of  it  to  me 
poor  old  mother  in  Ireland;  and  it  keeps  me  jolly  —  praise 
be  to  God!  —  to  think  I  'm  a-comfortin'  her  old  age.  Did 
ye  ever  think  whether  ye  did  anything  for  anybody  ? " 

No ;  Emily  never  had  thought  of  that.  From  the  very 
first  hour  that  her  baby  eyes  had  opened,  she  had  seen  all 
the  world  on  their  knees  around  her,  trying  to  serve  and 
please  her.  Neither  her  father  nor  mother  ever  spoke  or 
acted  as  if  they  expected  her  to  do  the  slightest  service  for 
them.  On  the  contrary,  they  always  spoke  as  if  they 
must  do  everything  for  her;  and  Bridget's  blunt  talk  now 
and  then  was  the  only  intimation  the  little  girl  ever  got 
that  there  was  a  way  to  be  happy  that  she  knew  not  of. 


VI 

OUR  little  friend  Pussy  went  on  in  the  way  we  have 
described,  every  day  finding  a  new  thing  that  she  was  able 
to  do,  and  taking  the  greatest  delight  in  doing  it.  Grad 
ually  her  mother's  arm  recovered, — as  it  never  would 
have  done,  had  not  the  helpfulness  of  her  little  daughter 
enabled  her  to  give  it  entire  rest,  —  and  she  was  in  a  situ 
ation  to  resume  her  family  cares. 

"  What  a  blessing  our  little  Pussy  has  been  to  us ! "  said 
her  father  to  her  mother,  one  night,  as  they  were  talking 
over  their  family  affairs. 

"Yes,"  said  the  mother;  "that  dear  child  is  so  unsel 
fish,  and  so  much  more  than  willing  to  do  for  us,  that  I 
am  fearful  lest  we  shall  make  too  much  of  her.  I  don't 
want  to  make  a  mere  drudge  of  my  daughter,  and  I  think 
we  must  send  her  to  school  this  summer.  Pussy  is  a  good 
reader,  —  I  have  always  taught  her  a  little  every  day,  — 
and  she  writes  little  letters  on  a  slate  quite  prettily  for  a 
child;  but  now  I  think  we  must  send  her  over  to  the 
Academy,  and  let  her  go  in  with  the  primary  class." 

Now  the  Academy  was  two  miles  off;  but  all  the  family 
were  used  to  being  up  and  having  breakfast  over  by  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning;  and  then  Pussy  put  on  her  sun- 
bonnet,  and  made  a  little  bundle  of  her  books,  and  tripped 
away  cheerfully  down  the  hard  stony  road,  along  the  path 
of  the  bright  brown  brook,  through  a  little  piece  of  waving 
pine  forest,  next  through  some  huckleberry  pastures  and 
patches  of  sweet  fern- bushes,  then  through  a  long  piece  of 
rocky  and  shady  forest,  till  she  reached  the  Academy. 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  171 

Little  Emily  Proudie  also  went  to  school,  at  one  of  the 
most  elegant  establishments  on  Fifth  Avenue;  and  as  she 
was  esteemed  to  be  entirely  too  delicate  to  walk,  her  father 
had  provided  for  her  a  beautiful  little  coupe,  cushioned 
inside  with  purple  silk,  and  drawn  by  a  white  horse,  with 
a  driver  in  livery  at  her  command.  This  was  Emily's 
own  carriage,  and  one  would  think  that,  when  she  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  get  into  it,  she  might  have  been 
always  early  at  her  school;  but,  unfortunately  for  her,  this 
was  never  the  case.  Emily  could  not  be  induced,  by  the 
repeated  calls  of  Bridget,  to  shake  off  her  morning  slumbers 
till  at  least  half  an  hour  after  the  time  she  ought  to  rise. 
Then  she  was  so  miserably  undecided  what  to  put  on,  and 
tried  so  many  dresses  before  she  could  be  suited,  and  was 
so  dissatisfied  with  the  way  her  hair  was  arranged,  that 
she  generally  came  to  breakfast  all  in  ill-humor,  and  only 
to  find  that  they  had  got  for  her  breakfast  exactly  the 
things  that  she  didn't  fancy.  If  there  was  an  omelette 
and  coffee  and  toast,  then  Emily  wished  that  it  had  been 
chocolate  and  muffins;  but  if  the  cook  the  next  morning, 
hoping  to  make  a  lucky  hit,  got  chocolate  and  muffins, 
Emily  had  made  up  her  mind  in  the  mean  time  that  the 
chocolate  would  give  her  a  headache,  and  that  she  must 
have  tea  made;  and  with  all  these  points  to  be  attended 
to,  there  is  no  wonder  that  the  little  coupd,  and  the  little 
white  horse,  and  the  driver  in  livery,  were  often  kept 
waiting  at  the  door  long  after  the  time  when  Emily  ought 
to  have  been  in  her  class-room. 

Madame  Ardenne  often  gently  complained  to  Emily's 
mother,  —  very  gently,  because  the  Proudies  were  so  rich 
and  fashionable  that  she  would  have  been  in  utter  despair 
at  the  idea  of  offending  them;  but  still  the  poor  woman 
could  not  help  trying  to  make  Emily's  mother  understand 
that  a  scholar  who  always  came  into  the  class-room  when 
the  lesson  was  half  over  could  not  be  expected  to  learn  as 


172  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

fast  as  if  she  were  there  punctually,  besides  being  a  great 
annoyance  to  all  the  rest  of  the  scholars. 

Emily's  mother  always  said  that  she  was  sorry  it  was 
so,  but  her  dear  child  was  of  a  most  peculiar  organization, 
—  that  it  did  not  seem  possible  for  her  to  wake  at  any 
regular  hour  in  the  morning,  —  and  that  really  the  dear 
child  had  a  sensitiveness  of  nature  that  made  it  very  diffi 
cult  to  know  what  to  do  with  her. 

In  fact,  young  ladies  who  are  brought  up  like  little 
Emily,  to  have  every  earthly  thing  done  for  them,  and  to 
do  no  earthly  thing  for  themselves,  are  often  sorely  tried 
when  they  come  to  school  life,  because  there  are  certain 
things  in  education  which  all  human  beings  must  learn  to 
do  for  themselves.  Emily  always  had  had  a  maid  to  wash 
her  and  dress  her,  and  to  do  everything  that  a  healthy 
little  girl  might  do  for  herself;  but  no  maid  could  learn  to 
read  for  her,  or  write  for  her.  Her  mamma  talked  strongly 
of  sending  to  Paris  for  a  French  dressing  maid,  to  keep 
her  various  dresses  in  order;  but  even  a  French  dressing- 
maid  could  not  learn  a  French  verb  for  her,  or  play  on  the 
piano  for  her.  Consequently  poor  Emily's  school  life  was 
full  of  grievous  trials  to  her.  Her  lessons  seemed  doubly 
hard  to  her,  because  she  had  always  been  brought  up  to 
feel  that  she  must  be  saved  from  every  labor,  and  must 
yield  before  the  slightest  thing  that  looked  like  a  difficulty. 

Little  Pussy,  after  her  walk  of  two  miles,  would  come 
into  the  Academy  fresh  and  strong,  at  least  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  school,  and  have  a  good  time  talking  with  the 
other  girls  before  the  school  began.  Then  she  set  about 
her  lessons  with  the  habit  of  conquering  difficulties.  If 
there  was  a  hard  sum  in  her  lesson,  Pussy  went  at  it  with 
a  real  spirit  and  interest.  "Please  don't  tell  me  a  word," 
she  would  say  to  her  teacher:  "I  want  to  work  it  out 
myself.  I'm  sure  I  can  do  it."  And  the  greater  the 
difficulty,  the  more  cheerful  became  her  confidence.  There 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  173 

was  one  sum,  I  remember,  that  Pussy  worked  upon  for 
a  week,  —  a  sum  that  neither  her  father  nor  mother,  nor 
any  of  her  brothers,  could  do;  but  she  would  not  allow 
her  teacher  to  show  her.  She  was  resolutely  determined 
to  do  it  all  alone  by  herself,  and  to  find  out  the  way  for 
herself,  —  and  at  last  she  succeeded ;  and  a  very  proud  and 
happy  Pussy  she  was  when  she  did  succeed. 

My  little  girls,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  there  is  a  plea 
sure  in  vanquishing  a  difficulty,  —  in  putting  forth  all  the 
power  and  strength  you  have  in  you  to  do  a  really  hard 
thing,  —  that  is  greater  than  all  the  pleasures  of  ease  and 
indolence.  The  little  girl  who  lies  in  bed  every  morning 
just  half  an  hour  later  than  her  conscience  tells  her  she 
ought  to  lie,  thinks  she  is  taking  comfort  in  it,  but  she  is 
mistaken.  She  is  secretly  dissatisfied  with  and  ashamed 
of  herself,  and  her  conscience  keeps  up  a  sort  of  uneasy 
trouble,  every  morning;  whereas,  if  she  once  formed  the 
habit  of  springing  up  promptly  at  a  certain  hour,  and 
taking  a  good  morning  bath,  and  dressing  herself  in  season 
to  have  plenty  of  time  to  attend  to  all  her  morning  duties, 
she  would  have  a  self-respect  and  self-confidence  that  it  is 
very  pleasant  to  feel. 

Pussy's  life  in  the  Academy  was  a  great  enjoyment  to 
her  this  summer.  She  felt  it  a  great  kindness  in  her 
mother  to  excuse  her  from  all  family  duties,  and  take  all 
the  work  upon  herself,  in  order  that  she  might  have  time 
to  study;  and  so  she  studied  with  a  right  good  will.  Her 
cheerful  temper  made  her  a  universal  favorite.  She 
seemed  among  her  schoolfellows  like  a  choice  lot  of  sugar 
plums  or  sweetmeats ;  everybody  wanted  a  scrap  or  portion. 
One  girl  wanted  Pussy  to  play  with  her;  another  made  her 
promise  to  walk  home  with  her;  two  or  three  wanted  to 
engage  her  for  recess;  all  Pussy's  spare  hours  for  days  and 
days  ahead  were  always  engaged  by  her  different  friends. 
The  girls  said,  "  Pussy  is  such  a  dear  girl !  she  is  so  bright ! 


174  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

she  makes  the  time  pass  so  pleasantly ! "  And  Pussy  in 
return  liked  everybody,  and  thought  there  never  was  so 
pleasant  a  school,  or  such  a  fortunate  girl,  as  herself. 

On  Saturdays  there  was  no  school,  and  then  Pussy 
would  insist  on  going  into  the  kitchen  to  help  her  mother. 

"Now,  my  dear,  you  ought  not  to  do  it,"  her  mother 
would  say.  "You  ought  to  have  Saturday  to  amuse  your 
self." 

"Well,  it  amuses  me  to  make  the  pies,"  Pussy  would 
say.  "  I  like  to  see  how  many  I  can  turn  out  in  a  day. 
I  don't  ask  better  fun." 

So  went  on  the  course  of  Pussy's  education. 


VII 

I  HAVE  told  you  how  Pussy  went  to  the  Academy  in 
summer,  and  what  good  times  she  had  going  through  the 
fragrant  sweet-fern  pastures,  and  across  the  brown  spark 
ling  brooks,  and  through  patches  of  woods  green  with  moss 
and  gay  with  scarlet  wintergreen  berries,  —  and  what  other 
good  times  she  had  studying  and  working  out  her  sums,  — 
and  also  how  fond  every  one  got  of  her. 

Well,  by  and  by  autumn  came,  and  the  frost  changed 
all  the  leaves  on  the  mountains  round  the  house  to  scarlet 
and  orange  and  gold;  and  then  the  leaves  began  to  fall, 
and  the  old  north- wind  came,  and  blew  and  whirled  and 
scattered  them  through  the  air,  till  finally  the  trees  stood 
bare.  Then  Pussy's  father  said,  "It's  time  to  make  all 
ready  for  winter, "  —  for  he  had  been  getting  the  cellar  full 
of  good  things.  Barrels  of  cider  had  been  rolled  in  at  the 
wide  cellar-door,  great  bins  had  been  filled  with  rosy  apples 
and  with  brown-coated  potatoes,  and  golden  pumpkins  and 
great  crook-neck  squashes  had  been  piled  up  for  Thanks 
giving  pies;  and  now  it  was  time  to  shut  the  great  doors, 
and  to  "  bank  up "  with  straw  and  leaves  and  earth  all 
round  the  house,  lest  sharp-eyed  Mr.  Jack  Frost  should 
get  in  a  finger  or  a  toe,  and  so  find  a  way  into  the  trea 
sures  of  the  cellar.  For  a  very  sharp  fellow  is  this  Mr. 
Jack,  and  he  always  has  his  eyes  open  to  see  whether  lazy 
people  have  left  anything  without  proper  care;  and  where 
he  finds  even  a  chink  not  stopped,  he  says,  "Ha,  ha!  I 
guess  I  '11  get  in  here;  "  —  and  in  he  goes,  and  then  people 
may  whistle  for  their  apples  and  potatoes.  But  Pussy's 


176  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

folks  were  smart,  careful  people,  and  everything  was  snugly 
stowed  and  protected,  you  may  be  sure. 

By  and  by  the  sun  took  to  getting  up  later  and  later, 
setting  a  dreadfully  bad  example,  it  is  to  be  confessed. 
It  would  be  seven  o'clock  and  after  before  he  would  show 
his  red  face  above  the  bedclothes  of  clouds,  away  off  in 
the  southeast;  and  when  he  did  manage  to  get  up,  he  was 
so  far  off  and  so  chilly  in  his  demeanor,  that  people  seemed 
scarcely  a  bit  the  better  for  him;  and  by  half  past  four  in 
the  afternoon  he  was  down  in  bed  again,  tucked  up  for  the 
night,  never  caring  what  became  of  the  world.  And  so 
the  clouds  were  full  of  snow,  as  if  a  thousand  white 
feather-beds  had  been  ripped  up  over  the  world;  and  all 
the  frisky  winds  came  out  of  their  dens,  and  great  frolics 
they  had,  blowing  and  roaring  and  careering  in  the  clouds, 
—  now  bellowing  down  between  the  mountains,  as  if  they 
meant  to  tear  the  world  to  pieces,  then  piping  high  and 
shrill,  first  round  one  corner  of  the  farmhouse,  and  then 
round  the  other,  rattling  the  windows,  bouncing  against 
the  doors,  and  then,  with  one  united  chorus,  rumbling, 
tumbling  down  the  great  chimney,  as  if  they  had  a  mind 
to  upset  it.  Oh,  what  a  frisky,  rough,  jolly,  unmannerly 
set  of  winds  they  were!  By  and  by  the  snow  drifted 
higher  than  the  fences,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen  around 
the  farmhouse  but  smooth  waving  hills  and  hollows  of 
snow;  and  then  came  the  rain  and  sleet,  and  froze  them 
over  with  a  slippery  shining  crust,  that  looked  as  if  the 
earth  was  dressed  for  the  winter  in  a  silver  coat  of  mail. 

Now  I  suppose  some  of  my  little  girls  will  say,  "Pussy 
never  can  go  two  miles  to  the  Academy  through  all  the 
cold  and  snow  and  sleet."  But  Pussy  did,  for  all  that. 

She  laughed  a  gay  laugh  when  her  mother  said  it  would 
be  best  to  wait  till  spring  before  she  went  any  more.  "  I 
wait  till  spring?  What  for?  What  do  I  care  for  cold 
and  snow  ?  I  like  them :  I  'm  a  real  snow-bird,  —  my 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  177 

blood  races  and  bounds  so  in  cold  weather  that  I  like 
nothing  better  than  being  out.  As  to  the  days  being 
short,  there  are  just  as  many  hours  in  them  as  there  were 
before,  and  there  's  no  need  of  my  lying  in  bed  because  the 
sun  does."  And  so  at  half  past  five  every  morning  you 
might  have  heard  Pussy  bestirring  herself  in  her  room, 
and  afterwards  in  the  kitchen,  getting  breakfast,  and  sing 
ing  louder  than  the  tea-kettle  on  the  stove,  as  she  drove 
her  morning's  work  before  her;  and  by  eight  o'clock 
Pussy's  breakfast  was  over,  and  the  breakfast-dishes 
washed  and  put  away,  and  Pussy  gathered  her  books  under 
her  arm,  and  took  her  little  sled  in  her  hand,  and  started 
for  school. 

This  sled  her  brothers  had  made  for  her  in  the  evenings, 
and  it  was  as  smart  a  little  sled  as  ever  you  saw  going. 
It  was  painted  red,  and  had  "  Snow-Bird "  lettered  on  it 
in  black  letters.  Pussy  was  proud  of  its  speed;  and  well 
she  might  be,  for  when  she  came  to  the  top  of  the  long, 
stony  hill  on  which  the  house  stood,  she  just  got  on  to 
her  little  sled,  took  her  books  in  her  lap,  and  away  she 
flew,  —  past  the  pastures,  by  the  barn,  across  the  plain 
below,  across  the  brook,  —  almost  half  a  mile  of  her  way 
done  in  a  minute;  and  then  she  would  spring  off  and 
laugh,  and  draw  her  sled  to  the  next  hill,  and  away  she 
would  go  again.  The  sled  was  a  great  help  to  Pussy,  and 
got  her  on  her  way  famously;  but  then  she  had  other 
helps,  for  she  was  such  a  favorite  in  school  that  there  was 
always  one  boy  or  another  who  came  to  meet  her,  and 
drew  her  on  his  sled  at  least  half-way  to  school.  There 
were  two  or  three  boys  that  used  to  quarrel  with  each 
other  as  to  which  should  have  the  privilege  of  drawing 
Pussy  from  the  chestnut  pasture  to  the  school-house,  and 
he  was  reckoned  the  best  fellow  who  got  there  first;  while 
more  than  once,  after  school,  little  Miss  Pussy  rode  the 
whole  way  home  to  her  father's  on  the  sled  of  some  boy 


178  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

who  liked  her  blue  eyes  and  felt  the  charm  of  her  merry 
laugh.  You  may  be  sure  Pussy  always  found  company, 
and  she  used  to  say  that  she  really  could  n't  tell  which  she 
liked  best,  summer  or  winter.  In  summer,  to  be  sure, 
there  were  the  pretty  flowers  and  the  birds;  but  in  winter 
there  were  the  sleds  and  sliding,  and  that  was  such  fun ! 

In  winter  evenings,  sometimes,  when  the  moon  shone 
clear,  whole  parties  of  boys  and  girls  would  get  an  old 
sleigh-bottom,  and  come  to  the  farmhouse,  and  then  Pussy 
would  get  on  her  hood  and  mittens,  and  out  they  would 
all  go  and  get  on  the  sleigh-bottom  together.  There  were 
Tom  Evans  and  his  sister  Betsey,  and  Jim  Styles,  and 
Almira  and  Susan  Jenkins,  and  Bet  Jenkins,  and  Mary 
Stephens,  and  Jack  Stephens,  and  nobody  knows  how 
many  more,  all  piled  on  together,  and  holding  as  tight  as 
they  could;  and  away  they  would  go,  down  the  smooth, 
white  hill,  and  across  the  shining  silvery  plain,  screaming 
and  laughing,  like  a  streak  of  merriment;  and  the  old 
sober  moon,  as  she  looked  down  through  the  deep  blue 
sky,  never  said  a  word  against  it,  or  hushed  them  up,  for 
making  too  much  noise. 

Ah,  it  was  splendid  fun!  and  even  when  they  stamped 
their  feet,  and  blew  their  hands  for  cold,  not  one  of  them 
would  hear  of  going  in  till  nine  o'clock;  and  then  they  all 
got  round  the  stove,  and  ate  apples  and  cracked  nuts  for 
half  an  hour  more,  and  then  went  off  home  to  be  in  bed 
by  ten  o'clock,  so  that  they  might  all  be  up  early  the  next 
day. 

Another  of  the  good  times  Pussy  used  to  have  was  at 
a  candy  frolic.  When  the  weather  was  at  the  coldest,  and 
the  frost  so  severe  that  everything  really  snapped,  then 
was  the  time  to  make  candy.  Then  Pussy's  mother 
would  put  on  a  couple  of  quarts  of  molasses  to  boil  in  the 
afternoon,  while  Pussy  was  at  school,  so  that  the  candy 
would  be  almost  made  by  evening. 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  179 

In  the  evening,  when  the  supper-dishes  were  cleared 
off,  you  would  hear  them  all  trooping  in,  and  a  noisy, 
happy  time  they  had  of  it,  —  trying  the  candy,  pulling 
little  bits  of  it  out  in  tea- cups  and  plates  and  saucers,  to 
see  if  it  was  done  hard  enough  to  pull.  Finally  the  whole 
dark,  smooth,  ropy  liquid  was  poured  out  from  the  kettle 
into  a  well-greased  platter,  and  set  out  in  a  snow-bank  to 
cool;  and  then  all  the  hands  were  washed  and  greased,  to 
begin  the  pulling. 

Ah!  then  what  sport,  as  each  one  took  a  share  of  the 
black-looking  candy,  and  began  pulling  it  out,  and  watch 
ing  the  gold  threads  come  out  as  they  worked  and  doubled 
and  turned  and  twisted,  till  at  last  the  candy  grew  bright 
amber-color,  and  then  a  creamy  white,  and,  when  finally 
hardened  by  setting  it  out  again  in  the  snow,  would  snap 
with  a  delicious,  brittle  crispness  most  delightful  to  see! 
How  jolly  were  the  whole  party  after  this  gay  evening,  as 
each  wended  his  way  home  over  the  crisp  sparkling  snow, 
with  a  portion  of  candy-sticks,  —  and  what  talking  there 
was  in  school  next  day,  and  what  a  going  over  of  the  jokes 
of  last  evening,  —  and  how  every  latch  of  every  door  in 
all  the  houses  round  had  molasses-candy  on  it  for  a  week 
after,  —  are  all  things  that  my  little  readers  who  have 
ever  given  candy  frolics  will  not  need  to  have  told  them. 

What  I  hay?  said  will  be  enough  to  show  you  that 
Pussy  made  a  merry  time  of  winter  no  less  than  summer. 


VIII 

LITTLE  Pussy  went  on  in  the  sort  of  life  we  have 
described  two  or  three  years  longer,  helping  her  mother  at 
home,  and  going  across  the  lots  and  through  the  woods  to 
the  distant  Academy;  and  gradually  she  grew  taller  and 
larger,  till  one  day  her  father  woke  up  and  said  to  her 
mother,  "Wife,  our  Pussy  is  growing  into  a  real  handsome 
little  woman.57 

Now  Pussy  heard  the  remark  as  she  was  moulding  up 
some  little  biscuit  in  the  next  room,  and  she  smiled  to 
herself.  "Am~L  pretty,  I  wonder?"  she  said  to  herself. 
So  that  evening  she  strolled  down  into  the  meadow,  where 
the  brook  spread  out  in  one  place  into  a  perfect  little  look 
ing-glass,  set  in  a  green  enameled  frame  of  moss  and 
violets  and  waving  feathers  of  fern-leaves.  Here  she  sat 
down  on  the  bank,  and  began  to  consider  herself  in  the 
water.  Looking  in,  she  saw  a  pair  of  eyes  just  the  color 
of  the  blue  violets  which  were  fringing  the  bank,  a  pair 
of  rosy  cheeks,  a  fair,  white  forehead,  and  some  long  curls 
of  brown  hair.  Pussy  considered  awhile,  and  then  she 
gathered  some  violets  and  crowsfoot,  and  drooping  meadow- 
grasses,  and  wove  them  into  a  garland,  and  put  it  on  her 
head,  and  peeped  into  the  brook  again  to  see  how  it 
looked. 

"She  is  pretty,"  said  old  Mother  Fern  to  Miss  Hepatica. 
"  She  is  pretty,  and  she  has  come  now  to  the  time  when 
she  may  as  well  know  it.  She  will  begin  now  to  dress 
herself,  and  brush  out  her  feathers,  as  the  bluebirds  and 
robins  do  in  the  spring-time." 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  181 

Pussy  walked  home  with  the  garland  on  her  head,  and 
at  the  door  she  met  her  father. 

"  Why,  how  now  ? "  he  said.  "  You  look  as  your 
mother  used  to  when  I  went  a-courtin'.  Girls  always  get 
the  knack  of  fixin'  up  when  their  time  comes." 

And  that  night  the  father  said  to  the  mother,  "  I  say, 
wife,  you  must  get  Pussy  a  new  bonnet." 

"I  've  heen  braiding  the  straw  for  one  all  winter,"  said 
the  wife.  "Last  fall  we  picked  and  sorted  the  straw,  and 
got  the  very  nicest,  and  I  have  enough  now  done  to  make 
a  nice  straw  hat.  I  will  soon  have  it  sewed,  and  then 
when  you  drive  over  to  Elverton,  you  can  get  it  pressed 
in  Josiah's  bonnet  factory." 

"And  I  '11  buy  her  a  ribbon  myself,"  said  the  father. 

"No,  no,  father;  after  all,  it  would  be  better  to  let  me 
have  the  wagon  and  the  old  horse,  and  take  her  over  to 
Worcester  to  choose  for  herself.  Girls  have  their  own 
notions. " 

"Well,  perhaps  that  'ere 's  the  best  way,  mother.  I 
tell  you  what,  —  that  child  has  been  a  treasure  to  us,  and 
I  would  n't  stand  for  expense;  get  her  a  new  gown  too. 
I  won't  stand  for  money.  If  you  have  to  spend  ten  dol 
lars,  I  wouldn't  mind  it,  to  have  her  dressed  up  as  hand 
some  as  any  gal  that  sits  in  the  singers'  seats  on  Sunday." 

What  would  little  Emily  Proudie  have  thought  of  a 
spring  outfit  that  could  be  got  for  ten  dollars?  One  of 
her  dresses  was  trimmed  with  velvet  that  cost  thirty  dol 
lars,  and  Emily  cried  when  it  was  brought  home  because 
it  was  the  wrong  shade  of  color,  and  sent  it  back  to 
Madame  Tulleruche,  to  have  all  the  velvet  ripped  off,  and 
thirty  dollars'  worth  of  another  shade  put  on.  But  what 
did  she  know  or  care  how  much  it  cost? 

The  next  morning,  after  the  worthy  couple  had  arranged 
for  Pussy's  spring  prospects,  her  father  was  so  full  of  the 
subject  that  he  could  not  forbear  opening  it  to  her  at  once. 


182  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

So  at  breakfast  he  pulled  forth  a  great  leather  pocket-book, 
out  of  which  he  took  a  new  ten-dollar  bill,  which  he  laid 
on  Pussy's  plate. 

"  Why,  father,  what  is  this  ?  "  said  Pussy. 

"Well,  I  noticed  last  night  how  pretty  you  looked  with 
your  posies  on,  and  I  told  your  mother  the  time  was  come 
when  you  'd  be  a-wantin'  folderols  and  such  like,  —  as 
girls  ought  to  have  when  they  come  to  the  right  age;  and, 
as  you  've  been  always  a  good  daughter,  and  never  thought 
of  yourself,  why,  we  must  think  for  you;  and  so  there 
'tis.  Get  yourself  any  bit  of  finery  you  want  with  it. 
I  don't  grudge  it." 

Now  Pussy  had  never  in  her  life  had  a  dollar  of  her 
own  before,  and  if,  instead  of  ten  dollars,  it  had  been  ten 
thousand,  she  could  scarcely  have  been  more  delighted. 
She  laughed  and  cried  and  jumped  for  joy,  and  she  and 
her  mother  calculated  over  and  over  again  how  this  large 
sum  should  be  invested.  Pussy  insisted  that  half  of 
it  should  be  spent  for  mother;  but  mother  very  firmly 
insisted  that  every  bit  of  it  should  go  to  Pussy's  spring 
outfit. 

"Let  her  have  her  way,  child,"  said  the  father. 
"Don't  you  see  that  you  are  herself  over  again?  She  has 
her  young  days  again  in  dressing  you." 

And  so  the  straw  braid  was  sewed  into  a  little  flat  straw 
hat;  and  the  straw  was  so  white  and  delicate,  and  the 
braid  so  fine,  that  all  the  gossips  round  about  said  that  the 
like  of  it  had  never  been  seen  in  those  parts.  And  when 
she  sent  it  over  to  the  bonnet  factory  at  Elverton,  Josiah 
Stebbins  —  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  factory,  and  was  a 
cousin  of  Pussy's  mother,  and,  some  say,  an  old  sweetheart 
too  —  he  put  the  precious  little  hat  through  all  the  proper 
processes,  and  delivered  it  at  last,  safe  and  shining,  to  her, 
and  would  not  take  a  cent  in  pay;  so  that  there  was 
Pussy's  little  fortune  still  untouched. 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  183 

Then  they  had  a  glorious  day,  going  over  to  Worcester, 
shopping.  They  had  a  friend  in  town  with  whom  they 
could  stay  over  night ;  and  so,  though  it  was  a  good  twenty 
miles'  drive,  they  did  not  mind  it. 

There  they  bought  a  white  camhric  dress,  and  a  blue 
ribbon,  and  a  wreath  of  lovely  white  daisies,  mixed  with 
meadow-grass,  which  the  shopman  said  had  been  made  in 
Paris.  Pussy  wondered  in  her  heart  how  Paris  milliners 
could  know  so  exactly  how  meadow-flowers  looked.  The 
young  man  at  first  asked  so  much  for  the  wreath  that 
Pussy  quite  despaired  of  being  able  to  get  it;  but  when  he 
saw  the  blue  eyes  fixed  so  longingly  on  it,  and  noticed  the 
pretty  light  on  her  curls  as  she  turned  her  head  in  the 
sunshine,  somehow  he  began  (like  a  great  many  other 
young  men)  to  wish  that  a  pretty  girl  could  have  her  own 
way;  so  finally  he  fumbled  at  the  lid  of  the  box,  and 
looked  at  the  price-mark,  and  said  that  it  was  the  last  of 
the  set,  and  that  they  were  closing  out  the  stock,  and 
ended  by  letting  her  have  it  for  just  half  the  price  he 
originally  asked.  So  Pussy  returned  home  the  next  day 
delighted,  with  what  seemed  to  her  a  whole  wardrobe  of 
beautiful  things. 

Very  fast  flew  her  little  fingers  as  she  fixed  the  wreath 
of  daisies  and  meadow-grass  around  the  shining  crown  of 
the  delicate  straw  hat,  and  then  tied  it  with  long  strings 
of  blue  ribbon,  and  found,  to  her  delight,  that  there  was 
enough  still  remaining  to  make  a  sash  to  her  white  dress. 

Her  mother  fitted  the  dress,  and  Pussy  sewed  it;  and 
the  next  Sunday  Pussy's  father  took  her  to  church  with 
a  delighted  heart.  He  was  observed  to  keep  wide  awake 
all  sermon-time,  staring  straight  up  into  the  front  gallery, 
where  Pussy  sat  in  the  singers'  seats,  with  her  pink 
cheeks,  her  blue  eyes  and  blue  ribbons,  and  nodding  wreath 
of  daisies  and  meadow-grass.  He  disturbed  his  wife's 
devotion  several  times  while  the  choir  were  singing, 


184:  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

"While  the  lamp. holds  out  to  burn, 
The  vilest  sinner  may  return," 

with  his  "Mother!  mother  I"  (with  a  poke  of  the  elhow.) 

"What  is  it,  father?" 

"Do  look  up  at  her." 

"I  have  looked." 

"But,  mother,"  (another  poke,)  "isn't  she  the  prettiest 
girl  you  ever  saw  ?  " 

"Father,  dear,  don't  talk  now." 

"I  declare,"  said  the  father,  as  they  were  driving  home, 
"I  don't  grudge  that  'ere  ten  dollars  one  grain." 


IX 

AND  so  it  became  an  established  fact  that  our  little 
Pussy  Willow  was  very  pretty  to  look  at,  as  well  as  good 
for  use.  Now,  for  our  part,  we  are  not  of  the  class  of 
those  who  think  it  is  no  sort  of  matter  how  one  looks  if 
one  is  only  good.  Our  kind  Father  in  heaven  has  set  us 
the  example  of  making  all  his  useful  works  ornamental.  A 
peach-tree  might  have  been  made  to  bear  good  peaches 
without  having  any  ornament  about  it;  in  fact,  peaches 
might  have  been  made  just  as  they  come  into  market,  in 
rough  bushel-baskets;  but,  instead  of  that,  only  see  the 
beauty  that  is  lavished  on  a  peach-tree !  There  is  no  flow 
ering  shrub  that  one  can  get  for  one's  front  door-yard  that 
is  more  beautiful.  There  is,  first,  the  beauty  of  its  long, 
narrow  green  leaf,  which  grows  with  so  rich  a  luxuriance, 
and  then  the  beauty  of  its  lovely  pink  blossoms,  and  after 
that  the  charming  velvet  peach,  colored -so  beautifully  with 
a  rosy  bloom  on  one  side.  And  so,  in  the  same  manner, 
apple  and  pear-trees  are  in  the  spring  of  the  year  covered 
with  the  most  delicate  and  delicious  flowers.  Now,  as  not 
more  than  one  in  a  dozen  of  these  thousands  of  blossoms 
ever  sets  for  fruit,  it  is  plain  that  our  good  Father  meant 
them  for  ornament  alone. 

And  so  the  impulse  which  makes  men  and  women  wish 
to  ornament  the  houses  they  live  in,  and  to  wear  delicate 
and  beautiful  clothing,  is  quite  in  agreement  with  the 
will  of  our  great  Creator,  who  has  made  everything  beauti 
ful  in  its  season. 


186  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

So  that  when  our  little  Pussy,  on  Sunday  morning,  felt 
such  pleasure  in  tying  on  her  pretty,  fair  straw  hat, 
crowned  with  nodding  daisies  and  meadow-grasses,  she  was 
just  as  good  a  little  Christian  as  she  was  when  she  was 
getting  breakfast  and  helping  her  mother  about  the  daily 
work,  or  reciting  her  lesson  in  the  Bible  class  at  her  Sun 
day  school. 

It  is  not  wrong  for  you,  my  little  girl  who  reads  this, 
to  wish  to  look  pretty,  any  more  than  it  is  wrong  to  wish 
to  be  good;  and  it  is  not  in  the  least  true  that  it  is  of  no 
sort  of  importance  how  you  look  if  you  are  only  good. 
It  is  true,  though,  that  it  is  a  great  deal  more  really  beau 
tiful  to  be  good  than  to  have  a  pretty  face,  or  be  well 
dressed.  Think  this  over  by  yourself,  and  see  if  you  do 
not  find  it  so.  If  you  have  two  schoolmates,  one  of  whom 
is  very  pretty  and  wears  the  prettiest  of  clothes,  and  the 
other  of  whom  is  plain,  and  wears  very  plain  clothes,  at 
first  you  like  the  pretty  one  the  best.  But  if  she  is  ill- 
tempered  and  cross,  if  she  frowns  and  scolds  and  is  dis 
obliging,  by  and  by  she  really  begins  to  look  homely  to 
you.  And  if  your  plain  friend  is  always  bright  and  cheer 
ful  and  good-tempered  and  ready  to  oblige  you,  you  begin 
to  think  her  quite  pretty;  she  looks  pretty  to  you  because 
you  love  her. 

Now  the  great  trouble  about  girls  and  women  is,  not 
that  they  think  too  much  of  outside  beauty,  but  that  they 
do  not  think  enough  of  inside  beauty.  If  Pussy  thought 
of  nothing  but  how  to  dress  herself,  if  her  whole  mind 
were  taken  up  with  thoughts  about  her  clothes,  she  would 
be  on  the  way  to  lose  what  is  her  best  beauty,  and  her 
most  lasting  one,  —  that  is,  her  unselfish  and  sweet  dispo 
sition. 

So  there  is  not  the  least  harm,  also,  in  loving  to  be 
admired,  —  especially  if  you  prefer  the  admiration  of  your 
own  dear,  true  friends  to  that  of  strangers.  There  are 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  187 

some  young  girls  who  do  not  care  how  they  look  at  home, 
who  do  not  care  that  their  fathers  and  mothers  and  brothers 
should  see  them  with  tumbled  and  torn  dresses,  and  rough 
hair,  while  they  will  spend  hours  and  hours  in  getting 
ready  to  shine  in  some  party  or  ball.  But  our  little  Pussy 
was  delighted  to  have  her  mother  pleased,  and  her  father 
happy,  and  to  see  that  her  brothers  were  proud  of  her. 
She  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass  when  she  came  home 
from  church,  and  saw  that  she  was  very  pretty,  and 
thanked  her  Heavenly  Father  for  it,  and  thought  what  a 
good  girl  she  must  try  to  be  to  those  dear  parents  who 
loved  her  so  dearly. 

She  felt  as  if  ten  dollars  spent  on  her  dress  was  almost 
an  extravagant  sum,  but  thought  she  would  try  to  make  it 
up  by  being  very  industrious  and  economical;  and  she 
began  directly  to  be  very  busy,  in  secret,  braiding  straw 
to  make  her  mother  a  bonnet  that  should  be  even  finer 
and  nicer  than  her  own.  She  had  learned  so  well  that  she 
could  braid  straw  while  she  was  reading  or  studying,  and 
her  little  fingers  were  never  idle,  even  while  her  mind  was 
away  on  other  things. 

The  love  of  beauty  did  not  stop  'with  her  own  dress. 
She  began  to  consider  what  could  be  done  to  make  their 
home  attractive.  There  had  been  always  a  best  room  at 
the  farmhouse,  but  it  had  been  rather  a  bare  place.  Not 
one  of  the  thousand  little  pretty  things  and  knick-knacks 
which  dress  up  modern  parlors  could  they  have  at  the 
farmhouse.  The  floor  had  not  even  a  carpet,  but  was 
covered  with  clean  white  sand,  crinkled  with  great  art  and 
care,  so  as  to  resemble  the  rippled  sand  on  the  sea-beach. 

But  Pussy  set  her  eyes  on  this  room,  and  resolved  to 
make  it  pretty.  First  she  persuaded  her  mother  to  let  her 
open  the  windows  and  take  away  some  heavy,  dark  paper 
curtains,  so  that  the  bright  light  of  the  sun  might  be  let 
in.  Then  she  searched  the  buffet,  in  the  corner  of  the 


188  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

best  room,  and  found  there  an  old  India  china  bowl  that 
belonged  to  her  mother's  wedding  tea-set,  and  this  she 
set  upon  the  table  and  kept  constantly  full  of  mignonette 
and  other  sweet  flowers  that  perfumed  the  air  of  the  room. 
Then  she  arranged  mosses  and  ferns  in  various  little  fanciful 
plots  upon  various  dishes  and  plates.  Her  brothers,  seeing 
her  object,  lent  her  the  aid  of  their  strong  arms,  and  dug 
up  for  her  roots  of  plumy  ferns,  which  they  brought  home 
all  waving  with  their  great  fan-like  leaves,  and  planted  for 
her  in  the  lower  half  of  a  cask  which  they  sawed  in  two 
for  the  purpose.  This  was  set  in  the  fireplace,  and  then 
Pussy  busied  herself  in  covering  the  sides  of  the  cask  with 
green  moss.  The  looking-glass  she  ornamented  with 
wreaths  of  evergreen,  intermingled  with  the  long  gray  moss 
that  grew  on  the  boughs  of  pine-trees,  and  brightened  by 
red  berries.  In  short,  after  a  while  the  little  parlor  looked 
like  some  of  those  quaint  mossy  bowers  in  the  woods, 
where  one  loves  to  sit  and  enjoy  the  sunshine. 

There  were  tall,  climbing  rose-bushes  which  grew  up 
over  the  window  and  looked  in  with  a  hundred  rosy,  in 
quiring  faces,  all  through  the  month  of  June ;  and  by  the 
time  the  roses  had  passed  away,  there  were  morning-glories 
planted  at  the  roots  of  the  bushes  which  kept  up  a  con 
stant  succession  of  bright  blossoms  through  the  summer. 

Pussy  had  induced  her  brother  to  make  her  a  rough 
frame  for  a  lounge,  which  she  cushioned  and  stuffed,  and 
then  covered  with  a  pretty,  neat  green  chintz.  A  couple 
of  rough  boxes,  cushioned  and  covered  with  the  same 
material,  made  a  pair  of  ottomans  to  match  this  lounge; 
and  the  room  really  began  to  wear  quite  an  inviting  appear 
ance. 

Pussy  had  persuaded  her  father  to  allow  her  the  milk 
of  one  cow,  which  he  cheerfully  did,  for  he  knew  she  was 
a  deft  little  dairy-maid.  Pussy  was  happy  and  busy 
enough  taking  charge  of  Clover,  —  for  so  her  cow  was 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  189 

called.  She  prepared  a  breakfast  for  her  every  morning 
with  her  own  hands,  and  Clover  would  come  up  and  stand 
with  her  head  over  the  fence  waiting  for  it.  Pussy  would 
stroke  her  head,  and  pat  her,  and  talk  to  her,  and  tell  her 
that  she  must  try  and  he  a  good  cow,  and  give  her  a  plenty 
of  milk  to  make  butter  of;  and  Clover  would  look  at  her 
attentively  out  of  her  great,  clear,  soft  eyes,  where  you 
could  see  the  shadow  of  the  lashes  just  as  you  can  see  the 
rushes  in  a  brook.  The  fact  is,  Pussy  grew  so  fond  of 
Clover  that  she  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  petting  her. 
Clover  learned  some  of  the  arts  of  civilized  life  with  great 
rapidity;  she  would  eat  cake  and  gingerbread  and  apples 
out  of  Pussy's  hand,  and  Pussy  would  sometimes  put  a 
wreath  of  buttercups  and  daisies  round  her  horns,  and 
lead  her  by  one  horn  to  look  at  herself  in  the  brook,  and 
see  how  she  liked  herself.  What  Clover  thought  of  all 
this  she  never  mentioned;  but  she  showed  her  regard  for 
her  young  mistress  in  the  best  way  that  a  cow  could  devise, 
by  giving  the  most  uncommon  quantity  of  nice  rich  milk. 
And  then  Pussy's  brothers  went  to  work  and  built  a  milk- 
room  out  in  the  pasture  directly  over  the  brook,  so  that 
the  little  stream  pattered  directly  through  it;  and  here 
Pussy's  pans  of  milk  were  set  to  raise  their  cream,  and 
here  was  her  seat  when  she  used  to  churn  and  work  her 
butter.  Pussy's  butter  became  quite  celebrated  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  sold  for  an  extra  price,  and  Pussy 
counted  the  money  with  a  glad  heart.  In  six  months  she 
had  saved  enough  to  buy  a  neat  little  shelf  of  books  to  put 
in  the  parlor;  and  many  and  many  a  happy  hour  at  home 
grew  out  of  that  shelf  of  books.  No  ornament  of  a  house 
can  compare  with  books;  they  are  constant  company  in 
a  room,  even  when  you  are  not  reading  them. 

Pussy  used  sometimes  to  take  a  book  out  and  show  it 
to  Clover,  and  say,  "Thank  you  for  this,  dear  Clover,"  — 
all  which  Clover  accepted  in  perfect  serenity. 


LITTLE  PUSSY  had  now  grown  up  to  be  quite  a  young 
woman.  She  was  sixteen  years  old,  tall  of  her  age,  and 
everybody  said  that,  though  she  was  n't  handsome,  she  was 
a  pretty  girl.  She  looked  so  open-hearted  and  kind  and 
obliging,  —  she  was  always  so  gay  and  chatty  and  full  of 
good  spirits,  —  so  bright  and  active  and  busy,  —  that  she 
was  the  very  life  and  soul  of  all  that  was  going  on  for 
miles  around. 

Little  Emily  Proudie  was  also  sixteen,  and  everybody 
said  she  was  one  of  the  most  perfectly  elegant  girls  that 
walked  the  streets  of  New  York.  Everybody  spoke  of  the 
fine  style  of  her  dress;  and  all  that  she  wore,  and  all  she 
said  and  did,  were  considered  to  be  the  height  of  fashion. 
Nevertheless,  this  poor  Emily  was  wretchedly  unhappy, 
—  was  getting  every  day  pale  and  thin,  and  her  heart  beat 
so  fast  every  time  she  went  up  stairs  that  all  the  household 
were  frightened  about  her,  and  she  was  frightened  herself. 
She  spent  hours  in  crying,  she  suffered  from  a  depression 
of  spirits  that  no  money  could  buy  any  relief  from,  and 
her  mother  and  aunts  and  grandmothers  were  all  alarmed, 
and  called  in  the  doctors  far  and  near,  and  had  solemn 
consultations,  and  in  fact,  according  to  the  family  view, 
the  whole  course  of  society  seemed  to  turn  on  Emily's 
health.  They  were  willing  to  found  a  water-cure,  —  to 
hire  a  doctor  on  purpose,  —  to  try  homoeopathy  or  hydro 
pathy,  or  allopathy,  or  any  other  pathy  that  ever  was 
heard  of,  —  if  their  dear  elegant  Emily  could  only  be 
restored. 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  191 

"It  is  her  sensitive  nature  that  wears  upon  her,"  said 
her  mamma.  "She  was  never  made  for  this  world;  she 
has  an  exquisiteness  of  perception  which  makes  her  feel 
even  the  creases  in  a  rose-leaf." 

"Stuff  and  folderol,  my  dear  madam,"  said  old  Dr. 
Hardhack,  when  the  mamma  had  told  him  this  with  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

Now  Dr.  Hardhack  was  the  nineteenth  physician  that 
had  been  called  in  to  dear  Emily,  and  just  about  this 
time  it  was  quite  the  rage  in  the  fashionable  world  to  run 
after  Dr.  Hardhack,  principally  because  he  was  a  plain, 
hard-spoken  old  man,  with  manners  so  very  different  from 
the  smooth  politeness  of  ordinary  doctors  that  people 
thought  he  must  have  an  uncommon  deal  of  power  about 
him  to  dare  to  be  so  very  free  and  easy  in  his  language  to 
grand  people. 

So  this  Dr.  Hardhack  surveyed  the  elegant  Emily 
through  his  large  glasses,  and  said,  "Hum!  —  a  fashionable 
potato-sprout !  —  grown  in  a  cellar !  —  not  a  drop  of  red 
blood  in  her  veins !  " 

"What  odd  ways  he  has,  to  be  sure!"  said  the  grand 
mamma  to  the  mamma;  "but  then  it's  the  way  he  talks 
to  everybody." 

"My  dear  madam,"  said  the  Doctor  to  her  mother, 
"you  have  tried  to  make  a  girl  out  of  loaf-sugar  and 
almond  paste,  and  now  you  are  distressed  that  she  has  not 
red  blood  in  her  veins,  that  her  lungs  gasp  and  flutter 
when  she  goes  up  stairs.  Turn  her  out  to  grass,  my  dear 
madam ;  send  her  to  old  Mother  Nature  to  nurse ;  stop  her 
parties  and  her  dancing  and  her  music,  and  take  off  the 
corsets  and  strings  round  her  lungs,  and  send  her  some 
where  to  a  good  honest  farmhouse  in  the  hills,  and  let  her 
run  barefoot  in  the  morning  dew,  drink  new  milk  from  the 
cow,  romp  in  a  good  wide  barn,  learn  to  hunt  hens'  eggs, 
—  I  '11  warrant  me  you  '11  see  another  pair  of  cheeks  in  a 


192  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

year.  Medicine  won't  do  her  any  good;  you  may  make 
an  apothecary's  shop  of  her  stomach,  and  matters  will  be 
only  the  worse.  Why,  there  isn't  iron  enough  in  her 
blood  to  make  a  cambric  needle ! " 

"Iron  in  her  blood!"  said  mamma;  " I  never  heard  the 
like." 

"  Yes,  iron,  —  red  particles,  globules,  or  whatever  you 
please  to  call  them.  Her  blood  is  all  water  and  lymph, 
and  that  is  why  her  cheeks  and  lips  look  so  like  a  cambric 
handkerchief,  —  why  she  pants  and  puffs  if  she  goes  up 
stairs.  Her  heart  is  well  enough,  if  there  were  only  blood 
to  work  in  it;  but  it  sucks  and  wheezes  like  a  dry  pump 
for  want  of  vital  fluid.  She  must  have  more  blood, 
madam,  and  Nature  must  make  it  for  her.7' 

"We  were  thinking  of  going  to  Newport,  Doctor." 

"Yes,  to  Newport,  to  a  ball  every  night,  and  a  flurry 
of  dressing  and  flirtation  every  morning.  No  such  thing! 
Send  her  to  a  lonesome,  unfashionable  old  farmhouse, 
where  there  was  never  a  more  exciting  party  than  a  quilt- 
ing-frolic  heard  of.  Let  her  learn  the  difference  between 
huckleberries  and  blackberries,  — learn  where  checkerber- 
ries  grow  thickest,  and  dig  up  sweet-flag  root  with  her 
own  hands,  as  country  children  do.  It  would  do  her  good 
to  plant  a  few  hills  of  potatoes,  and  hoe  them  herself,  as 
I  once  heard  of  a  royal  princess  doing,  because  queens  can 
afford  to  be  sensible  in  bringing  up  their  daughters." 

Now  Emily's  mamma  and  grandmamma  and  aunts,  and 
all  the  rest  of  them,  concluded  that  Dr.  Hardback  was  a 
very  funny,  odd  old  fellow,  and,  as  he  was  very  despotic 
and  arbitrary,  they  set  about  immediately  inquiring  for  a 
nice,  neat  farmhouse  where  the  Doctor's  orders  could  be 
obeyed;  and,  curiously  enough,  they  fixed  on  the  very 
place  where  our  Pussy  lived;  and  so  the  two  girls  came 
together,  and  were  introduced  to  each  other,  after  having 
lived  each  sixteen  years  in  this  world  of  ours  in  such  very 
different  circumstances. 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  193 

It  was  quite  an  event,  I  assure  you,  at  the  simple  little 
farmhouse,  when  one  day  a  handsome  traveling-carriage 
drove  up  to  the  door,  and  a  lady  and  gentleman  alighted  and 
inquired  if  they  were  willing  to  take  summer  boarders. 

"Indeed,"  said  Pussy's  mother,  "we  have  never  done 
such  a  thing,  or  thought  of  it.  I  don't  know  what  to  say 
till  I  ask  my  husband." 

"My  daughter  is  a  great  invalid,"  said  the  lady,  "and 
the  Doctor  has  recommended  country  air  for  her." 

"I  'm  afraid  it  would  be  too  dull  here  to  suit  her,"  said 
Pussy's  mother. 

"That  is  the  very  thing  the  Doctor  requires,"  said 
Emily's  mother.  "My  daughter's  nerves  are  too  excitable, 
—  she  requires  perfect  quiet  and  repose." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  your  daughter  ?  "  said  Mary 
Primrose. 

"Well,  she  is  extremely  delicate;  she  suffers  from  pal 
pitations  of  the  heart;  she  can't  go  up  stairs,  even,  or 
make  the  smallest  exertion,  without  bringing  on  dreadful 
turns  of  fluttering  and  faintness." 

"I'm  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Primrose,  "we  should  not  be 
able  to  wait  on  her  as  she  would  need.  We  keep  no  ser 
vants." 

"We  would  be  willing  to  pay  well  for  it,"  said  Emily's 
mother.  "Money  is  no  object  with  us." 

"Mother,  do  let  her  come,"  said  Pussy,  who  had  stolen 
in  and  stood  at  the  back  of  her  mother's  chair.  "I  want 
her  to  get  well,  and  I  '11  wait  on  her.  I  'm  never  tired, 
and  could  do  twice  as  much  as  I  do  any  day." 

"What  a  healthy-looking  daughter  you  have!"  said 
Emily's  mother,  surveying  her  with  a  look  of  admiration. 

"Well,"  said  Pussy's  mother,  "if  she  thinks  best,  I 
think  we  will  try  to  do  it;  for  about  everything  on  our 
place  goes  as  she  says,  and  she  has  the  care  of  everything." 

And  so  it  was  arranged  that  the  next  week  the  new 
boarder  was  to  come. 


XI 

AND  so  it  was  settled  that  our  elegant  young  friend, 
Miss  Emily  Proudie,  was  to  go  and  stay  at  the  farmhouse 
with  Pussy  Willow.  Dr.  Hardback  came  in  to  give  his 
last  directions,  in  the  presence  of  grandmamma  and  the 
aunts  and  mamma,  who  all  sat  in  an  anxious  circle. 

"Do  pray,  dear  Dr.  Hardback,  tell  us  just  how  she 
must  be  dressed  for  that  cold  mountain  region.  Must  she 
have  high-necked,  long-sleeved  flannels  ?  "  said  mamma. 

"I  will  make  her  half  a  dozen  at  once,"  chimed  in 
Aunt  Maria. 

"Not  so  fast,"  said  Dr.  Hardback.  "Let's  see  about 
this  young  lady,"  and  with  that  Dr.  Hardback  endeavored 
to  introduce  his  forefinger  under  the  belt  of  Miss  Emily's 
dress. 

Now  the  Doctor's  forefinger  being  a  stout  one,  and  Miss 
Emily's  belt  ribbon  being  drawn  very  snugly  round  her, 
the  belt  ribbon  gave  a  smart  snap,  and  the  Doctor  drew 
out  his  finger  with  a  jerk.  "I  thought  so,"  he  said.  "I 
supposed  that  there  was  n't  much  breathing  room  allowed 
behind  there." 

"Oh,  I  do  assure  you,  Doctor,  Emily  never  dresses 
tight,"  said  her  mother. 

"No  indeed!  "  said  little  Miss  Emily.  "I  despise  tight 
lacing.  I  never  wear  my  clothes  any  more  than  just  com 
fortable." 

"  Never  saw  a  woman  that  did, "  said  the  Doctor.  "  The 
courage  and  constancy  of  the  female  sex  in  bearing  incon 
veniences  is  so  great,  however,  that  that  will  be  no  test  at 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  195 

all.  Why,  if  you  should  catch  a  fellow,  and  gird  his  ribs 
in  as  Miss  Emily  wears  hers  all  the  time,  he  'd  roar  like 
a  bull  of  Bashan.  You  wouldn't  catch  a  man  saying  he 
felt  '  comfortable '  under  such  circumstances ;  but  only 
persuade  a  girl  that  she  looks  stylish  and  fashionable  with 
her  waist  drawn  in,  and  you  may  screw  and  screw  till  the 
very  life  leaves  her,  and  with  her  dying  breath  she  will 
tell  you  that  it  is  nothing  more  than  '  comfortable. '  So, 
my  young  lady,  you  don't  catch  me  in  that  way.  You 
must  leave  off  belts  and  tight  waists  of  all  sorts  for  six 
months  at  least,  and  wear  only  loose  sacks,  or  thingum 
bobs,  —  whatever  you  call  'em,  — so  that  your  lungs  may 
have  some  chance  to  play,  and  fill  with  the  vital  air  I  'm 
going  to  send  you  to  breathe  up  in  the  hills. " 

"But,  Doctor,  I  don't  believe  I  could  hold  myself  up 
without  corsets,"  said  Miss  Emily.  "When  I  sit  up  in 
a  loose  dress,  I  feel  so  weak  I  hardly  know  what  to  do. 
I  need  the  support  of  something  around  me." 

"My  good  child,  that  is  because  all  those  nice  strong 
muscles  around  your  waist,  which  Nature  gave  you  to  hold 
you  up,  have  been  bound  down  and  bandaged  and  flattened 
till  they  have  no  strength  in  them.  Muscles  are  nourished 
and  strengthened  by  having  blood  carried  to  them;  if  you 
squeeze  a  muscle  down  flat  under  a  bandage,  there  is  no 
room  for  blood  to  get  into  it  and  nourish  it,  and  it  grows 
weak  and  perishes. 

"Now  look  there,"  said  the  Doctor,  pointing  with  his 
cane  to  the  waist  of  a  bronze  Venus  which  adorned  the 
mantle-piece,  — "  look  at  that  great  wide  waist,  look  at 
those  full  muscles  over  the  ribs  that  moved  that  lady's 
breathing  apparatus.  Do  you  think  a  woman  with  a  waist 
like  that  would  be  unable  to  get  up  stairs  without  fainting  ? 
That  was  the  idea  the  old  Greeks  had  of  a  Goddess,  —  a 
great,  splendid  woman,  with  plenty  of  room  inside  of  her 
to  breathe,  and  to  kindle  warm  vital  blood  which  should 


196  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

go  all  over  her  with,  a  glow  of  health  and  cheerfulness,  — 
not  a  wasp  waist,  coming  to  a  point  and  ready  to  break  in 
two  in  the  middle. 

"Now  just  there,  under  Miss  Emily's  belt,  is  the  place 
where  Nature  is  trying  to  manufacture  all  the  blood  which 
is  necessary  to  keep  her  brain,  stomach,  head,  hands,  and 
feet  in  good  condition,  —  and  precious  little  room  she  gets 
to  do  it  in.  She  is  in  fact  so  cooped  up  and  hindered, 
that  the  blood  she  makes  is  very  little  in  quantity  and 
extremely  poor  in  quality;  and  so  she  has  lips  as  white  as 
a  towel,  cheeks  like  blanched  celery,  and  headaches,  and 
indigestion,  and  palpitations  of  the  heart,  and  cold  hands, 
and  cold  feet,  and  forty  more  things  that  people  have  when 
there  is  not  enough  blood  to  keep  their  systems  going. 

"Why,  look  here,"  said  the  Doctor,  whirling  round  and 
seizing  Miss  Emily's  sponge  off  the  wash-stand,  "your 
lungs  are  something  like  this,  and  every  time  that  you  take 
in  a  breath  they  ought  to  swell  out  to  their  full  size,  so 
that  the  air  that  you  take  in  shall  purify  your  blood  and 
change  it  from  black  blood  to  red  blood.  It 's  this  change 
in  your  lungs  that  makes  the  blood  fit  to  nourish  the 
whole  of  the  rest  of  your  body.  Now  see  here,"  said  the 
Doctor,  squeezing  the  sponge  tight  in  his  great  hand,  — 
"here's  what  your  corsets  and  your  belt  ribbons  do, — 
they  keep  the  air-vessels  of  your  lungs  matted  together 
like  this,  so  that  the  air  and  the  blood  can  hardly  get 
together  at  all,  and  consequently  it  is  impure.  Don't  you 


"Well,  Doctor,"  said  Emily,  who  began  to  be  frightened 
at  this,  "do  you  suppose  if  I  should  dress  as  you  tell  me 
for  six  months  my  blood  would  come  right  again  ? " 

"It  would  go  a  long  way  towards  it,  my  little  maid," 
said  the  Doctor.  "You  fashionable  girls  are  not  good  for 
much,  to  be  sure;  but  yet  if  a  doctor  gets  a  chance  to  save 
one  of  you  in  the  way  of  business,  he  can't  help  wishing 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  197 

to  do  it.  So,  my  dear,  I  just  give  you  your  choice.  You 
can  have  a  fine,  nice,  taper  little  body,  with  all  sorts  of 
pretty  little  waists  and  jackets  and  thingumies  fitting  with 
out  a  wrinkle  about  it,  and  be  pale  and  skinny,  with  an 
unhealthy  complexion,  low  spirits,  indigestion,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing;  or  you  can  have  a  good,  broad,  free 
waist,  with  good  strong  muscles  like  the  Venus  up  there, 
and  have  red  lips  and  cheeks,  a  good  digestion,  and  cheer 
ful  spirits,  and  be  able  to  run,  frisk,  jump,  and  take  some 
comfort  in  life.  Which  would  you  prefer  now  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  would  like  to  be  well,"  said  Emily;  "and 
in  the  country  up  there  nobody  will  see  me,  and  it 's  no 
matter  how  I  look." 

"To  be  sure,  it's  no  matter,"  chimed  in  Emily's 
mamma.  "  Only  get  your  health,  my  dear,  and  afterwards 
we  will  see." 

And  so,  a  week  afterwards,  an  elegant  traveling-carriage 
drew  up  before  the  door  of  the  house  where  Pussy's  mother 
lived,  and  in  the  carriage  were  a  great  many  bolsters  and 
pillows,  and  all  sorts  of  knick-knacks  and  conveniences, 
such  as  sick  young  ladies  use,  and  little  Emily  was  brought 
out  of  the  carriage,  looking  very  much  like  a  wilted  lily, 
and  laid  on  the  bed  up  stairs  in  a  chamber  that  Pussy  had 
been  for  some  time  busy  in  fitting  up  and  adorning  for 
her. 

And  now,  while  she  is  getting  rested,  we  will  tell  you 
all  about  this  same  chamber.  When  Pussy  first  took  it  in 
hand  it  was  as  plain  and  dingy  a  little  country  room  as 
ever  you  saw,  and  she  was  very  much  dismayed  at  the 
thought  of  putting  a  genteel  New  York  young  lady  in  it. 

But  Pussy  one  day  drove  to  the  neighboring  town  and 
sold  her  butter,  and  invested  the  money  she  got  for  it,  — 
first  in  a  very  pretty  delicate-tinted  wall-paper  and  some 
white  cotton,  and  some  very  pretty  blue  bordering.  Then 
the  next  day  she  pressed  one  of  her  brothers  into  the  ser- 


198  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

vice,  and  cut  and  measured  the  wall-paper,  and  contrived 
the  breadths,  and  made  the  paste,  and  put  it  on  the  paper 
as  handily  as  if  she  had  been  brought  up  to  the  trade, 
while  her  brother  mounted  on  a  table  and  put  the  strips 
upon  the  wall,  and  Pussy  stroked  down  each  breadth  with 
a  nice  white  cloth.  Then  they  finished  all  by  putting 
round  the  ceiling  a  bordering  of  flowers,  which  gave  it 
quite  an  air.  It  took  them  a  whole  day  to  do  it,  but  the 
room  looked  wonderfully  different  after  it  was  done. 

Then  Pussy  got  her  brother  to  make  cornices  to  the 
windows,  which  she  covered  with  bordering  like  that  on 
the  walls,  and  then  she  made  full  white  curtains,  and  bor 
dered  them  with  strips  of  the  blue  calico ;  she  also  made 
a  bedspread  to  match.  There  was  a  wide-armed  old  rock 
ing-chair  with  a  high  back,  that  had  rather  a  forlorn 
appearance,  as  some  of  its  slats  were  broken,  and  the  paint 
wholly  rubbed  off,  but  Pussy  took  it  in  band,  and  padded 
and  stuffed  it,  and  covered  it  with  a  white,  blue-bordered 
dress,  till  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  chair  would  have 
known  itself  if  it  could  have  looked  in  the  glass. 

Then  she  got  her  brother  to  saw  out  for  her  a  piece  of 
rough  board  in  an  oblong  octagon  shape,  and  put  four  legs 
to  it;  and  out  of  this  foundation  she  made  the  prettiest 
toilet-table  you  can  imagine.  The  top  was  stuffed  like  a 
large  cushion,  and  covered  with  white,  and  an  ample  flow 
ing  skirt  of  white,  bordered  with  blue,  like  the  bedspread 
and  window- curtains,  completed  the  table.  Over  this 
hung  a  looking-glass  whose  frame  had  become  very  much 
tarnished  by  time,  and  so  Pussy  very  wisely  concealed  it 
by  looping  around  it  the  folds  of  some  thin  white  muslin 
that  had  once  been  her  mother's  wedding-dress,  but  was 
now  too  old  and  tender  for  any  other  usage  than  just  to  be 
draped  round  a  mirror.  Pussy  arranged  it  quite  gracefully, 
and  fastened  it  at  the  top  and  sides  with  some  smart  bows 
of  blue  ribbon,  and  it  really  looked  quite  as  if  a  French 
milliner  had  been  at  it. 


LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW  199 

Then  beside  this,  there  was  a  cunning  little  hour-glass 
stand,  which  she  made  for  the  head  of  the  bed  out  of  two 
old  dilapidated  spinning-wheels,  and  which,  covered  with 
white  like  the  rest,  made  a  handy  little  bit  of  furniture. 
Then  Pussy  had  arranged  vases  of  blue  violets  and  apple- 
blossoms  here  and  there,  and  put  some  of  her  prettiest 
books  in  the  room,  and  hung  up  one  or  two  pictures  which 
she  had  framed  very  cleverly  in  rustic  frames,  and  on  the 
whole  the  room  was  made  so  sweet  and  inviting  that,  when 
Emily  first  looked  around  it,  she  said  two  or  three  times, 
"How  nice!  How  very  pretty  it  is!  I  think  I  shall  like 
to  be  here." 

Those  words  were  enough  to  pay  Pussy  for  all  her 
trouble.  "  Oh,  mother,  I  am  so  sorry  for  her !  "  she  said, 
rushing  down  stairs;  "and  I'm  so  glad  she  likes  it!  To 
think  of  her  being  so  weak,  and  I  so  strong,  and  we  just 
of  an  age !  I  feel  as  if  I  could  n't  do  too  much  for  her." 

And  what  the  girls  did  together  we  will  tell  you  by  and 


XII 

WE  left  little  Miss  Emily  Proudie  lying  like  a  broken 
lily,  stretched  out  on  the  white  bed  that  Pussy  Willow 
had  made  for  her,  where,  tired  with  her  day's  ride,  she 
slept  soundly. 

Dr.  Hardback  had  been  very  positive  in  saying  that 
neither  her  mother  nor  any  of  her  aunts,  nor  indeed  any 
attendant  who  had  taken  care  of  her  in  New  York,  should 
have  anything  to  do  with  her  in  her  new  abode.  "  She  is 
to  break  all  old  associations,"  he  said,  "and  wake  up  to 
a  new  life.  I  can't  answer  for  her  health  if  you  give  her 
even  a  servant  that  she  has  had  before.  Engage  some 
good,  wholesome  country-girl  for  a  companion  for  her,  and 
some  good  farmer's  wife  to  overlook  her,  and  turn  her  out 
into  a  nice,  wide  old  barn,  and  let  her  lie  on  the  hay,  and 
keep  company  with  the  cows,"  he  went  on.  "Nature  will 
take  care  of  her,  —  only  give  her  a  chance. " 

About  five  o'clock  the  next  morning,  Emily  was  wak 
ened  by  a  bustle  in  the  house.  What  could  be  the  matter  ? 
she  thought,  there  was  such  a  commotion  on  the  stairs. 
It  was,  however,  only  the  men  folk  of  the  household  going 
down  to  their  breakfast ;  and  Pussy  and  her  mother  had  been 
up  long  before,  in  time  to  get  the  corn-cake  baked,  and 
coffee  made,  and  everything  ready  for  them. 

Then  there  began  to  come  up  into  the  windows  such  a 
sound  of  cackling  and  lowing  and  bleating,  as  the  sheep 
and  the  cows  and  the  oxen  all  began,  in  different  tones, 
calling  for  their  morning  breakfast,  and  gossiping  with  one 
another  about  a  new  day.  Emily  lay  in  her  bed,  and 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  201 

watched  the  pink  light,  making  her  white  curtains  look  all 
rose-color,  and  the  sounds  of  birds  and  hens  and  cows  and 
sheep  all  mingled  in  her  mind  in  a  sort  of  drowsy,  lulling 
murmur,  and  she  fell  into  a  soft,  refreshing  doze,  which 
melted  away  into  a  deep  sleep ;  and  so  she  slept  ever  so 
long.  When  she  awoke  again  the  sun  was  shining  clear 
and  bright  through  her  window-curtains,  which  had  been 
looped  back  with  festoons  of  wild  roses,  that  seemed  so 
fresh  and  beautiful  that  she  could  not  help  starting  up  to 
look  at  them. 

She  perceived  at  once  that  while  she  had  been  sleeping 
some  one  must  have  been  in  her  room,  for  by  the  side  of 
her  bed  was  a  table  covered  with  a  white  cloth,  and  on  the 
table  was  a  tall,  slender  vase,  full  of  fresh  morning-glories, 
blue  and  purple  and  rose- colored  and  dark  violet,  with 
colors  as  intense  and  vivid  as  if  they  really  had  been  morn 
ing  clouds  grown  into  flowers.  "Oh,  how  beautiful!"  she 
exclaimed. 

"I  'm  so  glad  you  like  them! "  said  a  voice  behind  her; 
and  Pussy  Willow  stood  there  in  a  trim  morning- wrapper, 
with  just  the  nicest  white  frill  you  ever  saw  around  her 
little  throat. 

"  Oh,  did  you  bring  these  flowers  here  ?  " 

"Why,  yes;  I  picked  them  for  you  with  the  dew  on 
them.  I  thought  it  a  pity  you  should  not  see  them  before 
the  sun  shut  them  up.  They  are  ever  so  beautiful,  but 
they  only  last  one  morning." 

"Is  that  so?  "  said  Emily.      "I  never  knew  that." 

"Certainly;  but  then  we  always  have  new  ones.  Some 
mornings  I  have  counted  as  many  as  sixty  or  seventy  at 
my  milk-room  window  when  I  have  been  skimming  the 
cream. " 

"  How  very  early  you  must  get  up !  " 

"Yes,  about  the  time  the  bobolinks  and  robins  do," 
said  Pussy,  cheerfully.  "I  want  to  get  my  work  all  done 


202  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

early.  But  come  now,  shall  I  help  you  to  dress  ?  "  —  and 
Pussy  brought  water  and  towels  to  the  bedside,  and  helped 
Emily  with  all  her  morning  operations  as  handily  as  if  she 
had  been  a  maid  all  her  life,  till  finally  she  seated  her, 
arrayed  in  a  neat  white  wrapper,  in  the  rocking-chair. 

"And  now  for  your  breakfast.  I  have  got  it  all  ready 
for  you, "  —  and  Pussy  tripped  out,  and  in  a  few  moments 
returned,  bringing  with  her  a  tea-tray  covered  with  a  fine 
white  cloth,  which  she  placed  upon  the  stand.  "Now 
let 's  move  your  table  up  to  you,  and  put  your  vase  of 
flowers  in  the  centre. " 

"  Oh,  what  a  pretty  breakfast !  "  said  Emily. 

And  so  it  was,  and  a  good  one  too;  for,  first,  there  was 
a  large  saucer  of  strawberries,  delightfully  arranged  on 
green  vine-leaves;  then  there  was  a  small  glass  pitcher  full 
of  the  thickest  and  richest  cream,  that  was  just  the  color 
of  a  saffrano  rose-leaf,  if  any  of  my  little  friends  know 
what  that  is.  Then  there  was  the  most  charming  little 
cake  of  golden  butter  you  ever  saw,  stamped  with  a  flower 
on  it  and  arranged  upon  two  large  strawberry-leaves,  that 
actually  had  a  little  round  pearl  of  dew  on  each  of  their 
points.  Pussy  had  taken  great  pains  to  preserve  the  dew- 
drops  unbroken  on  those  leaves;  she  called  them  her 
morning  pearls.  Then  there  were  some  white,  tender  little 
biscuits,  and  some  nice  round  muffins  of  a  bright  yellow 
color,  made  of  corn  meal,  by  a  very  choice  receipt  on 
which  Pussy  prided  herself.  So  on  the  whole,  if  you 
remember  that  Emily's  chair  stood  before  an  open  window 
where  there  was  a  beautiful  view  of  ever  so  many  green 
hills,  waving  with  trees,  and  rolling  their  green  crests,  all 
sparkling  and  fresh  with  morning  dew,  you  may  not  won 
der  that  she  felt  a  better  appetite  than  for  months  before, 
and  that  she  thought  no  breakfast  had  ever  tasted  so  good 
to  her. 

"  Do  eat  some  with  me, "  she  said  to  Pussy,  —  for  Emily 


LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW  203 

was  a  well-bred  girl,  and  somehow  did  not  like  to  seem  to 
take  all  to  herself. 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Pussy,  "but  you  see  I  had  my 
breakfast  hours  ago." 

"  Why,  what  time  do  you  get  up  ? "  said  Emily,  open 
ing  her  eyes  wide. 

"Oh,  about  four  o'clock." 

"Four  o'clock!"  said  Emily,  drawing  in  her  breath. 
"How  dreadful!" 

"I  don't  find  it  so,"  said  Pussy,  with  a  gay  laugh. 
"If  you  only  could  see  how  beautiful  everything  is,  — so 
fresh  and  cool  and  still ! " 

"Why,  do  you  know,"  said  Emily,  "that  when  I  heard 
people  moving  this  morning,  I  thought  it  was  some  time 
in  the  night?  I  thought  something  must  have  happened." 

"Nothing  but  what  happens  every  morning,"  said 
Pussy,  laughing.  "I  hope  it  didn't  disturb  you." 

"  Oh  no ;  I  fell  into  a  very  sound  sleep  after  it.  Why, 
it  must  have  been  two  or  three  hours  before  I  woke  again. 
What  do  you  find  to  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  everything  you  can  think  of.  I  feed  Clover,  and 
milk  her.  You  must  get  acquainted  with  Clover;  she  is 
just  the  gentlest,  most  intelligent  little  beast  you  ever  saw, 
and  I  make  a  great  pet  of  her.  Mother  laughs  at  the  time 
I  spend  in  getting  her  breakfast  ready  every  morning,  and 
says  she  believes  I  put  eggs  and  sugar  in  her  corn-cake. 
I  don't  quite  do  that;  but  then  Clover  expects  something 
nice,  and  I  love  to  give  it  to  her.  She  has  beautiful, 
great,  soft  eyes,  and  looks  at  me  with  such  gratitude  when 
I  feed  her!  She  would  be  glad  to  lick  my  hand;  but  her 
tongue  is  rather  too  rough.  Poor  Clover,  she  doesn't 
know  that!  But  you  ought  to  see  the  milk  she  gives! 
By  and  by  perhaps  you  would  like  to  come  down  to  my 
spring-house  and  see  my  pans  of  milk  and  cream." 

"And  do  you  really  make  butter? " 


204  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

"  Certainly ;  I  made  this  that  you  are  eating. " 

"What,  this  morning?" 

"No,  yesterday;  but  I  stamped  it  this  morning  on 
purpose  for  your  breakfast.  It  has  a  pansy  on  it,  you  see; 
Brother  Jim  cut  my  stamp  for  me,  —  he  has  quite  a  taste 
for  such  things." 

"Dear  me!"  said  Emily,  "how  much  you  must  have  to 
do !  I  think  I  must  be  quite  a  trouble  to  you,  with  all 
your  engagements;  I  think  Dr.  Hardback  ought  to  have 
let  me  bring  a  maid." 

"Oh,  she  would  only  be  in  the  way,"  said  Pussy;  "you 
had  a  great  deal  better  let  me  take  care  of  you." 

"  But  you  must  have  so  much  to  do  "  — 

"Oh,  my  work  for  to-day  is  about  all  done;  I  have 
nothing  to  do  really.  The  butter  is  made,  and  set  away 
to  cool,  and  the  dinner  all  put  up  for  the  men  to  take  to 
the  field;  and  they  won't  come  home  till  night.  This  is 
my  time  for  sewing,  and  reading  and  writing,  and  doing 
all  things  in  general.  And  so,  now,  when  you  feel  like 
it,  I  '11  show  you  about  over  the  premises." 

So  the  two  girls  put  on  their  hats,  and  Pussy  began  to 
lead  her  frail  young  friend  about  with  her. 

First,  they  went  down  along  by  the  side  of  the  brook, 
at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  to  the  spring-house.  It 
seemed  refreshingly  cool,  and  the  brook  pattered  its  way 
through  it  with  a  gentle  murmur.  On  either  side  was  a 
wide  shelf  set  full  of  pans  of  milk,  on  which  the  soft, 
yellow  cream  was  rising,  and  there  was  a  little  rustic  seat 
at  one  end. 

"There  is  my  seat,"  said  Pussy,  pointing  it  out. 
"Here's  where  I  sit  to  work  my  butter,  and  do  all  sorts 
of  things.  It's  always  cool  here, — even  in  the  hottest 
days."  Then  Pussy  showed  Emily  her  churn,  and  the 
long  row  of  bright  tin  pans  that  were  sunning  on  a  board 
on  the  outside. 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  205 

All  this  was  perfectly  new  to  Emily;  she  had  never  in 
her  life  thought  how  or  where  butter  was  made,  and  it  was 
quite  a  new  interest  to  her  to  see  all  about  it.  "If  only 
you  didn't  make  it  so  very  early,"  she  said,  "I  should 
like  to  see  you  do  it." 

"It  is  right  pretty  work,"  said  Pussy,  "and  it  is  a 
delight  always  new  to  see  the  little  golden  flakes  of  butter 
begin  to  come  in  the  cream!  Perhaps,  by  and  by,  when 
you  grow  stronger,  you  might  get  up  early  for  one  morn 
ing.  You  have  no  idea  what  beautiful  things  there  are 
to  be  seen  and  heard  early  in  the  morning,  that  never 
come  at  any  other  time  of  day.  But  now  let 's  go  to  the 
barn.  Wouldn't  you  like  me  to  take  you  to  ride  while 
it's  cool?  There  is  old  Whitefoot  left  that  the  men  are 
not  using.  I  can  have  him  whenever  I  please." 

"But  you  say  the  men  are  all  gone,"  said  Emily. 

"Oh,  I  '11  harness  him,"  said  Pussy;  "Whitefoot  knows 
me,  and  will  let  me  do  anything  I  please  with  him.  I  do 
believe  he  'd  buckle  his  own  girths,  and  harness  himself 
up  to  oblige  me  if  he  could,  —  poor  Whitefoot ! " 

So  saying,  they  came  into  the  large,  clean,  sweet-smell 
ing  barn,  now  fragrant  with  the  perfume  of  new  hay.  It 
had  great  wide  doors  on  either  side,  and  opened  upon  a 
most  glorious  picture  of  the  mountains. 

"Now,"  said  Pussy,  "you  must  need  rest  awhile,  and 
I  'm  going  to  get  you  up  into  my  more  particular  haunt,  — 
up  this  ladder." 

"Oh,  dreadful!  I  couldn't  go  up  there,"  said  Emily, 
"it  would  set  my  heart  beating  so." 

"Oh,  never  mind  your  heart,"  said  Pussy;  "just  let  me 
get  my  arm  round  your  waist,  and  put  your  foot  there, "  — 
and  before  Emily  could  remonstrate  she  found  herself  swung 
lightly  up,  and  resting  softly  in  a  fragrant  couch  of  hay. 

"You  didn't  know  how  easy  it  was  to  get  up  here," 
said  Pussy. 


206  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

"No,  to  be  sure  I  didn't,"  said  Emily.  "What  a  nice, 
queer  old  place,  and  how  sweet  the  hay  smells ! " 

"Now,"  said  Pussy,  "let  me  carry  you  to  my  boudoir, 
and  put  you  on  my  sofa." 

There  was  a  great  open  door  above,  where  the  hay  was 
pitched  in,  and  opposite  this  door  Pussy  placed  Miss 
Emily,  with  a  mountain  of  sweet-smelling  hay  at  her  back, 
and  a  soft  couch  of  it  under  her. 

"  There,  now !  "  said  Pussy,  "  you  are  accommodated 
like  a  duchess.  Now,  say  if  I  have  n't  a  glorious  prospect 
from  my  boudoir.  We  can  look  quite  up  that  great  val 
ley,  and  count  all  those  cloudy  blue  old  mountains,  and 
see  the  clouds  sailing  about  in  the  sky,  and  dropping  their 
shadows  here  and  there  on  the  mountains.  I  have  my 
books  out  here,  and  some  work,  and  I  sit  here  hours  at 
a  time.  Perhaps  you  '11  like  to  come  here  days,  with  me, 
and  read  and  sew." 

Now,  to  tell  the  truth,  Emily  had  never  been  fond  of 
reading,  and  as  for  sewing,  she  had  scarcely  ever  taken  a 
needle  in  her  hand;  but  she  said  nothing  about  this,  and 
only  asked  to  look  at  Pussy's  books.  There  were  Long 
fellow's  " Evangeline, "  Bryant's  Poems,  Prescott's  "Fer 
dinand  and  Isabella, "  and  "  Paul  and  Virginia  "  in  French. 

"So  you  read  French,"  said  Emily,  in  a  tone  of  slight 
surprise. 

"A  little;  I  don't  suppose  I  pronounce  it  well,  for  I 
never  really  heard  a  French  person  speak.  Perhaps,  by 
and  by,  when  you  are  better,  you  will  give  me  a  few  les 
sons." 

Emily  blushed,  —  for  she  remembered  how  very  negli 
gent  of  her  studies  she  had  been  at  school;  but  she  an 
swered,  "I  never  was  a  very  good  scholar,  but  they  used 
to  say  I  had  a  very  good  accent;  one  cannot  be  years  in 
a  French  school  without  acquiring  that." 

"And  that  is  just  what  I  need,"  said  Pussy,  "so  it  all 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  207 

happens  just  right;  and  you  will  give  me  a  lesson  every 
day,  won't  you? " 

"You  are  so  kind  to  me,"  said  Emily,  "that  I  should 
be  glad  to  do  anything  I  can." 

"Then  it's  all  settled,"  said  Pussy,  exultingly.  "We 
will  come  and  sit  here  with  our  books,  and  breathe  the 
fresh  air,  and  be  all  still  and  quiet  by  ourselves,  and  I 
will  read  to  you,  — that  is,"  she  said,  blushing,  "if  you 
like  to  be  read  to." 

"Oh,  you  are  very  kind,"  said  Emily;  "I  should  like 
it  of  all  things." 

"And  now,"  said  Pussy,  "if  you  would  like  a  little 
drive  before  the  heat  of  the  day  comes  on,  I  '11  just  speak 
to  Whitefoot." 

"  You  're  not  really  in  earnest  in  saying  you  can  harness 
him  ?  "  said  Emily. 

"To  be  sure  I  am;  how  should  we  women  folk  ever  get 
about  if  I  couldn't1?  I  can  push  out  the  wagon,  and  have 
him  in  in  a  twinkling." 

And,  sure  enough,  Miss  Emily,  looking  through  a  crack, 
saw  old  Whitefoot  come  out  of  his  stable  at  the  call  of  his 
young  mistress,  and  meekly  bend  his  sober  old  head  to  her 
while  she  put  on  the  harness,  and  backed  him  between  the 
shafts  of  the  carriage,  and  then  proceeded  to  fasten  and 
buckle  the  harness,  till,  finally,  all  was  ready. 

"Now  let  me  bring  you  down,"  said  Pussy. 

"You  seem  to  think  I  am  only  a  bale  of  goods,"  said 
Emily,  laughing. 

"  Well,  you  are  not  to  exert  yourself  too  much  at  first. 
Mother  told  me  I  must  be  very  careful  about  you,  because 
I  am  so  strong,  and  not  expect  you  could  do  anything  like 
me  at  first." 

"Well,  I  think  I  shall  try  to  help  myself  down,"  said 
Emily;  "it  was  only  foolish  nonsense  that  made  me  afraid. 
I  can  hold  to  that  ladder  as  well  as  you,  if  I  only  choose." 


208  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

"To  be  sure.  It  is  the  best  way,  because,  if  one  feels 
that  way,  one  can't  fall." 

Emily  had  never  done  so  much  for  herself  before,  and 
she  felt  a  new  sensation  in  doing  it,  —  a  new  feeling  of 
power  over  herself;  and  she  began  to  think  how  much 
better  the  lively,  active,  energetic  life  of  her  young  friend 
was,  than  her  own  miserable,  dawdling  existence  hitherto. 

The  two  girls  took  a  very  pleasant  drive  that  morning. 
First  to  mill,  where  Pussy  left  a  bag  of  corn  to  be  ground 
into  meal,  and  where  Emily  saw,  for  the  first  time,  the 
process  of  making  flour.  Emily  admired  the  little  cascade, 
with  its  foamy  fall  of  dark  water,  that  turned  the  old, 
black,  dripping  mill-wheel;  she  watched  with  somewhat 
awe-struck  curiosity  the  great  whirling  stones  that  were 
going  round  and  round,  and  the  golden  stream  of  meal  that 
was  falling  from  them.  She  noticed  all  along  on  the  road 
that  everybody  knew  Pussy,  and  had  a  smile  and  a  word 
for  her. 

"Oh,  here  ye  be!"  said  the  old  miller;  "why,  I'm 
glad  to  see  ye;  it's  as  good  as  sunshine  any  day  to  see 
you  a-comin'."  And  in  return,  Pussy  had  inquiries  for 
everybody's  health,  and  for  all  their  employments  and 
interests. 

So  the  first  day  passed  in  various  little  country  scenes 
and  employments,  and  when  Emily  came  to  go  to  bed  at 
night,  although  she  felt  very  tired,  she  found  that  she  had 
thought  a  great  deal  less  of  her  ailments  and  troubles  that 
day  than  common.  She  had  eaten  her  meals  with  a  won 
derful  appetite,  and,  before  she  knew  it,  at  night  was 
sound  asleep. 


XIII 

WELL,  my  dear  girls  who  read  this  story,  I  want  now 
just  to  ask  you,  seriously  and  soberly,  which  you  would 
rather  be,  as  far  as  our  story  has  gone  on,  — little  Miss 
Pussy  Willow,  or  little  Miss  Emily  Proudie. 

Emily  had,  to  be  sure,  twice  or  three  times  as  much  of 
all  the  nice  things  you  ever  heard  of  to  make  a  girl  happy 
as  little  Pussy  Willow;  she  had  more  money,  a  larger  and 
more  beautiful  house,  more  elegant  clothes,  more  brilliant 
jewelry,  — and  yet  of  what  use  were  these  so  long  as  she 
did  not  enjoy  them? 

And  why  didn't  she  enjoy  them?  My  dear  little  girl, 
can  you  ever  remember,  on  a  Christmas  or  Thanksgiving 
day,  eating  so  much  candy,  ice-cream,  and  other  matters 
of  that  nature,  that  your  mouth  had  a  bitter  taste  in  it, 
and  you  loathed  the  very  sight  of  cake  or  preserves,  or 
anything  sweet  ?  What  earthly  good  did  it  do,  when  you 
felt  in  that  way,  for  you  to  be  seated  at  a  table  glittering 
with  candy  pyramids  ?  You  could  not  look  at  them  with 
out  disgust. 

Now  all  Emily's  life  had  been  a  candy  pyramid.  Ever 
since  she  was  a  little  girl,  her  eyes  had  been  dazzled,  and 
her  hands  filled  with  every  pretty  thing  that  father, 
mother,  aunts,  uncles,  and  grandmothers  could  get  for  her, 
so  that  she  was  all  her  time  kept  in  this  state  of  weariness 
by  having  too  much.  Then  everything  had  always  been 
done  for  her,  so  that  she  had  none  of  the  pleasures  which 
the  good  God  meant  us  to  have  in  the  use  of  our  own 
powers  and  faculties.  Pussy  Willow  enjoyed  a  great  deal 


210  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

more  a  doll  that  she  made  herself,  carving  it  out  of  a  bit 
of  white  wood,  painting  its  face,  putting  in  beads  for  eyes, 
and  otherwise  bringing  it  into  shape,  than  Emily  did  the 
whole  army  of  her  dolls,  with  all  their  splendid  clothes. 
This  was  because  our  Heavenly  Father  made  us  so  that  we 
should  find  a  pleasure  in  the  exercise  of  the  capacities  he 
has  given  us. 

So  when  the  good  fairies  which  I  have  told  you  about, 
who  presided  over  Pussy's  birth,  gave  her  the  gift  of  being 
pleased  with  all  she  had  and  with  all  she  did,  they  knew 
what  they  were  about,  and  they  gave  it  to  a  girl  that  was 
going  to  grow  up  and  take  care  of  herself  and  others,  and 
not  to  a  girl  that  was  going  to  grow  up  to  have  others 
always  taking  care  of  her. 

But  now  here  at  sixteen  are  the  two  girls;  and  as  they 
are  sitting,  this  bright  June  morning,  up  in  the  barn- 
chamber,  working  and  reading,  I  want  you  to  look  at  them, 
and  ask,  What  has  Miss  Emily  gained  by  her  luxurious 
life  of  wealth  and  ease,  that  Pussy  Willow  has  not  acquired 
in  far  greater  perfection  by  her  habits  of  self-helpfulness  1 

When  the  two  girls  stand  up  together,  you  may  see  that 
Pussy  Willow  is  every  whit  as  pretty  and  as  genteel  in 
her  appearance  as  Emily.  Because  she  has  been  an  indus 
trious  country  girl,  and  has  always  done  the  duty  next 
her,  you  are  not  to  suppose  that  she  has  grown  up  coarse 
and  blowsy,  or  that  she  has  rough,  red  hands,  or  big  feet. 
Her  complexion,  it  is  true,  is  a  healthy  one;  her  skin, 
instead  of  being  waxy-white,  like  a  dead  japonica,  has  a 
delicate  shade  of  pink  in  its  whiteness,  and  her  cheeks 
have  the  vivid  color  of  the  sweet-pea,  bright  and  clear  and 
delicate;  and  she  looks  out  of  her  wide  clear  blue  eyes 
with  frankness  and  courage  at  everything.  She  is  every 
whit  as  much  a  lady  in  person  and  manners  and  mind  as 
if  she  had  been  brought  up  in  wealth  and  luxury.  Then, 
as  to  education,  Miss  Emily  soon  found  that  in  all  real 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  211 

solid  learning  Pussy  was  far  beyond  her.  A  girl  that  is 
willing  to  walk  two  miles  to  school,  summer  and  winter, 
for  the  sake  of  acquiring  knowledge,  is  quite  apt  to  study 
with  energy.  Pussy  had  gained  her  knowledge  by  using 
her  own  powers  and  faculties,  studying,  reading,  thinking, 
asking  questions.  Emily  had  had  her  knowledge  put  into 
her,  just  as  she  had  had  her  clothes  made  and  put  on  her; 
she  felt  small  interest  in  her  studies,  and  the  consequence 
was  that  she  soon  forgot  them. 

But  this  visit  that  she  made  in  the  country  opened  a 
new  chapter  in  Emily's  life.  I  told  you,  last  month,  that 
she  had  a  new  sensation  when  she  was  climbing  down  the 
ladder  from  the  hay-mow.  The  sensation  was  that  of 
using  her  own  powers.  She  was  actually  so  impressed 
with  the  superior  energy  of  her  little  friend,  that  she  felt 
as  if  she  wanted  to  begin  to  do  as  she  did;  and,  instead 
of  being  lifted  like  a  cotton-bale,  she  put  forth  her  own 
powers,  and  was  surprised  to  find  how  nicely  it  felt. 

The  next  day,  after  she  had  been  driving  about  with 
Pussy  in  the  old  farm-wagon,  and  seeing  her  do  all  her 
errands,  she  said  to  her,  "Do  you  know  that  I  think  that 
my  principal  disease  hitherto  has  been  laziness  ?  I  mean 
to  get  over  it.  I  'm  going  to  try  and  get  up  a  little  earlier 
every  morning,  and  to  do  a  little  more  every  day,  till  at 
least  I  can  take  care  of  myself.  I  have  determined  that 
I  won't  always  lie  a  dead  weight  on  other  people's  hands. 
Let  me  go  round  with  you,  Pussy,  and  do  every  day  just 
some  little  thing  myself.  I  want  to  learn  how  you  do 
everything  as  you  do." 

Of  course,  this  good  resolution  could  not  be  carried  out 
in  a  day ;  but  after  Emily  had  been  at  the  farm  a  month, 
you  might  have  seen  her,  between  five  and  six  o'clock  one 
beautiful  morning,  coming  back  with  .Pussy  from  the 
spring-house,  where  she  had  been  helping  to  skim  the 
cream,  and  awhile  after  she  actually  sent  home,  to  her 


212  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

mother's  astonishment,  some  little  pats  of  butter  that  she 
had  churned  herself. 

Her  mother  was  amazed,  and  ran  and  told  Dr.  Hard- 
hack.  "I  wish  you  would  caution  her,  Doctor;  I'm  sure 
she  's  over-exerting  herself.7' 

"Never  fear,  my  dear  madam;  it's  only  that  there's 
more  iron  getting  into  her  blood, — that's  all.  Let  her 
alone,  or  —  tell  her  to  do  it  more  yet !  " 

"  But,  Doctor,  may  not  the  thing  be  carried  too  far  ? " 

"For  gentility,  you  mean?  Don't  you  remember  Marie 
Antoinette  made  butter,  and  Louis  was  a  miller  out  at 
Marly  ?  Poor  souls !  it  was  all  the  comfort  they  got  out 
of  their  regal  life,  that  sometimes  they  might  be  allowed 
to  use  their  own  hands  and  heads  like  common  mortals." 

Now  Emily's  mother  didn't  remember  all  this,  for  she 
was  not  a  woman  of  much  reading;  but  the  Doctor  was  so 
positive  that  Emily  was  in  the  right  way,  that  she  rested 
in  peace.  Emily  grew  happier  than  ever  she  had  been  in 
her  life.  She  and  her  young  friend  were  inseparable ;  they 
worked  together,  they  read  and  studied  together,  they  rode 
out  together  in  the  old  farm- wagon.  "I  never  felt  so 
strong  and  well  before,"  said  Emily,  "and  I  feel  good  for 
something. " 

There  was  in  the  neighborhood  a  poor  young  girl,  who 
by  a  fall,  years  before,  had  been  made  a  helpless  cripple. 
Her  mother  was  a  hard-working  woman,  and  often  had  to 
leave  her  daughter  alone  while  she  went  out  to  scrub  or 
wash  to  get  money  to  support  her.  Pussy  first  took  Emily 
to  see  this  girl  when  she  went  to  carry  her  some  nice 
things  which  she  had  made  for  her.  Emily  became  very 
much  interested  in  the  poor  patient  face  and  the  gentle 
cheerfulness  with  which  she  bore  her  troubles. 

"Now,"  she  said,  " every  week  I  will  make  something 
and  take  to  poor  Susan ;  it  will  be  a  motive  for  me  to  learn 
how  to  do  things, "  —  and  so  she  did.  Sometimes  she  car- 


LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW  213 

ried  to  her  a  nice  little  print  of  yellow  butter  arranged 
with  fresh  green  leaves;  sometimes  it  was  a  little  mould 
of  blanc-mange,  and  sometimes  a  jelly.  She  took  to  cut 
ting  and  fitting  and  altering  one  of  her  own  wrappers  for 
Susan's  use,  and  she  found  a  pleasure  in  these  new  cares 
that  astonished  herself. 

"You  have  no  idea,"  she  said,  "how  different  life  looks 
to  me,  now  that  I  live  a  little  for  somebody  besides  myself. 
I  had  no  idea  that  I  could  do  so  many  things  as  I  do,  — 
it 's  such  a  surprise  and  pleasure  to  me  to  find  that  I  can. 
Why  have  I  always  been  such  a  fool  as  to  suppose  that 
I  was  happy  in  living  such  a  lazy,  useless  life  as  I  have 
lived?" 

Emily  wrote  these  thoughts  to  her  mother.  Now  her 
mother  was  not  in  the  least  used  to  thinking,  and  new 
thoughts  made  a  troublesome  buzzing  in  her  brain;  so  she 
carried  her  letters  to  Dr.  Hardback,  and  asked  what  he 
thought  of  them. 

"  Iron  in  her  blood,  my  dear  madam,  —  iron  in  her 
blood !  Just  what  she  needs.  She  '11  come  home  a  strong, 
bouncing  girl,  I  hope." 

"  Oh,  shocking !  "  cried  her  mother. 

"Yes,  bouncing,"  said  Dr.  Hardback,  who  had  a  per 
verse  and  contrary  desire  to  shock  fine  ladies.  "Why 
shouldn't  she  bounce?  A  ball  that  won't  bounce  has  no 
elasticity,  and  is  good  for  nothing  without  a  bat  to  bang 
it  about.  I  shall  give  you  back  a  live  daughter  in  the  fall 
instead  of  a  half -dead  one;  and  I  expect  you  '11  all  scream, 
and  stop  your  ears,  and  run  under  beds  with  fright  because 
you  never  saw  a  live  girl  before." 

"Isn't  Dr.  Hardback  so  original?"  said  mamma  to 
grandmamma. 

"But  then,  you  know,  he's  all  the  fashion  now,"  said 
grandmamma. 


XIV 

OUR,  little  friend,  Miss  Emily  Proudie,  had  on  the 
whole  a  very  pleasant  summer  of  it  at  the  farm.  By  the 
time  that  huckleberries  were  ripe,  in  August,  she  could 
take  her  hasket  on  her  arm,  and,  in  company  with  Pussy, 
take  long  walks,  and  spend  whole  afternoons  in  the  pas 
tures,  sitting  down  on  the  great  wide  cushions  of  white 
foamy  moss,  such  as  you  always  find  in  huckleberry  pas 
tures,  and  picking  pailfuls  of  the  round,  shining  black 
fruit.  She  never  found  herself  tired  and  panting  for 
breath,  as  she  used  to  in  her  city  life;  for  there  were  no 
bandages  or  strings  around  her  lungs  to  confine  her  breath 
ing,  and  in  place  of  the  hot,  close  air  of  city  pavements 
there  were  the  spicy  odors  of  the  sweet-fern  and  the  pine- 
trees  and  the  bayberry-bushes. 

Then  Pussy  had  brought  her  to  be  acquainted  with  all 
the  birds,  so  that  she  knew  every  one  just  as  well  as  she 
used  to  know  her  old  calling  acquaintance  on  Fifth  Avenue. 
There  was  frisky  Master  Catbird,  who  sang  like  every 
other  bird  in  the  woods  in  turn,  —  five  minutes  like  this 
one,  and  the  next  five  minutes  like  that  one,  —  and  ended 
by  laughing  at  them  all,  with  as  plain  a  laugh  as  ever  a 
bird  could  make.  And  there  were  the  bobolinks,  with 
the  white  spots  on  their  black  wings,  that  fluttered  and 
said,  "Chack,  chack,  chack!"  as  if  they  didn't  know  how 
to  sing  a  word,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  broke  out  into 
a  perfect  bird  babble  of  "  Chee-chees  "  and  "  Twitter- twit 
ters,"  and  said,  "0  limph,  O  limph,  0  limp-e-te!  sweet 
meats,  sweetmeats!"  and,  "Veni  si-no  pi-le-cheer-ene ! " 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  215 

And  then,  too,  there  was  the  shy  white- throated  finch, 
that  never  sings  unless  it  is  perfectly  sure  of  being  all 
alone  by  itself  in  the  deepest,  shadiest  little  closet  of  an 
old  pine-tree  or  a  thick-leaved  maple. 

Pussy  had  taught  Emily  how  to  creep  round  among  the 
bushes,  holding  her  breath,  and  moving  in  perfect  silence, 
till  at  last  they  would  get  directly  under  the  tree  where 
the  shy  little  beauty  was  sitting;  and  then  they  would  see 
her  dress  herself,  and  plume  her  feathers,  and  pour  forth 
just  six  clear,  measured  musical  notes,  —  a  little  plaintive, 
but  so  sweet  that  one  who  heard  her  once  would  want  to 
hear  again. 

Pussy  used  to  insist  that  the  bird  uttered  just  six  words 
in  the  tune  of  one  of  her  Sunday-school  hymns,  —  "No 
war  nor  battle  sound."  By  close  listening,  you  might 
after  a  time  be  quite  sure  that  the  bird  sung  exactly  these 
words  in  her  green,  still  retirement. 

Then  there  were  a  whole  crowd  more  of  meadow-larks, 
and  finches,  and  yellow-birds,  that  used  to  sit  on  thistle- 
tops,  and  sing,  and  pick  out  the  downy  thistle-seeds,  and 
snap  them  up,  and  send  the  little  silvery  plumes  flying 
like  fairy  feathers  through  the  summer  air. 

Emily  used  to  suppose  that  there  were  no  sights  to  look 
at  in  the  country,  where  there  was  no  theatre,  and  no 
opera,  and  no  museum;  but  she  soon  found  that  she  could 
see,  every  day,  out  in  a  common  pasture-lot,  things  more 
beautiful  and  curious  than  any  which  could  be  gotten  up 
to  entertain  people  in  the  city. 

On  Sundays  they  used  to  ride  two  good  miles  over  hill 
and  dale  to  the  village  church,  and  there  Pussy  had  her 
Sunday-school  class  of  nice  rosy  boys  and  girls,  whom  she 
seemed  so  fond  of,  and  who  were  always  so  glad  to  see 
her. 

Many  times  the  thought  occurred  to  Emily,  "How 
happy  this  girl  is !  Not  a  day  of  her  life  passes  when  she 


216  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

does  not  feel  that  she  is  bringing  some  good  and  useful 
thing  to  pass,  feeling  her  own  powers,  and  brightening 
the  life  of  every  one  around  her  by  the  use  of  them.  And 
I,"  Emily  thought,  "have  lived  all  my  life  like  some 
broken- winged  bird  or  sick  chicken,  just  to  be  taken  care 
of,  —  always  to  receive,  and  never  to  give ;  always  to  be 
waited  on,  and  never  to  wait  on  anybody." 

With  health  and  strength  and  cheerfulness  came  a  sort 
of  consciousness  of  power,  and  a  scorn  of  doing  nothing,  in 
this  young  girl's  mind.  "Because  I  am  rich,  is  that  any 
reason  why  I  should  be  lazy,"  she  thought  to  herself, 
"arid  let  my  body  and  mind  absolutely  die  out  from  sheer 
laziness  ?  If  I  am  not  obliged  to  work  to  support  myself, 
as  Pussy  is,  still,  ought  I  not  to  work  for  others,  as  she 
does  1  If  I  can  afford  to  have  all  my  clothes  made,  is  that 
any  reason  why  I  should  not  learn  to  cut  and  fit  and  sew 
so  as  to  help  those  who  have  not  money?  Besides," 
thought  the  sensible  Miss  Emily,  "my  papa  may  lose  his 
money,  and  become  poor.  Now  being  poor  is  no  evil  to 
Pussy ;  she  contrives  to  be  just  as  happy,  to  look  pretty, 
to  dress  well  and  neatly,  and  to  make  her  home  charming 
and  agreeable,  —  all  by  using  her  own  faculties  to  the 
utmost,  instead  of  depending  on  others,  and  being  a  drag 
and  a  burden  on  them.  I  will  try  and  do  so  too.  To  be 
sure  it  is  late  in  the  day  for  me,  I  have  indulged  laziness 
so  long,  —  and  I  am  lazy,  that 's  a  fact.  But  then  "  — 
And  then  Emily  went  on  thinking  over  the  explanation 
that  she  had  heard  Pussy  give  to  her  Sunday-school  class, 
on  the  Sunday  before,  of  the  parable  of  the  talents,  and 
the  uses  different  people  made  of  them.  "These  talents," 
she  thought,  "are  all  our  advantages  for  doing  good;  and 
I  have  had  so  many !  I  am  like  the  man  who  just  digged 
in  the  earth  and  buried  his  Lord's  money  in  darkness;  I 
have  not  done  anything  with  my  talents;  I  have  not  culti 
vated  my  mind,  though  I  have  had  every  advantage  for  it; 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  217 

I  have  not  even  perfectly  acquired  any  accomplishment. 
I  have  not  done  anybody  any  good,  and  I  have  not  even 
been  happy  myself.  My  talent  has  not  only  not  been  in 
creased,  but  it  has  grown  less ;  for  I  have  lost  my  health, 
and  come  almost  to  the  grave  by  foolish  ways  of  dressing, 
by  sitting  up  late  nights,  and  living  generally  without  any 
sensible  worthy  object.  And  now,  if  my  Lord  should 
come  to  reckon  with  me,  what  could  I  say  about  the  use 
I  have  made  of  my  talents  1 " 

This  was  more  serious  thinking  than  our  Miss  Emily 
had  ever  done  before,  and  it  ended  in  a  humble,  hearty 
prayer  to  her  Saviour  to  enable  her  for  the  future  to  lead 
a  better  life;  and  then  she  began  to  study  as  earnestly  to 
learn  how  to  do  everything  about  a  house  as  if  she  were 
in  very  deed  a  poor  girl,  and  needed  to  know.  She  in 
sisted  on  taking  the  care  of  her  own  room,  and  early  in 
the  morning  you  might  have  heard  her  stepping  about  her 
apartment  in  a  thrifty  way,  throwing  open  her  window, 
and  beating  up  her  pillows  and  bolster,  and  putting  them 
to  air.  Then  she  would  insist  on  helping  Pussy  wash  the 
breakfast  things,  and  she  would  get  her  to  teach  every  step 
of  the  way  to  make  bread  and  biscuit  and  butter,  and  all 
nice  things.  "It  does  me  good,  it  amuses  me,  it  gives  me 
my  health,  and  it  makes  me  good  for  something,"  she  said. 
"If  ever  I  should  have  use  for  this  knowledge,  I  shall  be 
at  no  loss,  and  you  don't  know  how  much  happier  I  am  than 
when  I  did  nothing." 

"Now,  Pussy  dear,"  she  used  to  add,  "when  I  go  back 
to  New  York  this  winter,  you  must  come  and  visit  me; 
for  I  cannot  do  without  you." 

"Oh!"  Pussy  would  say,  laughing,  "you  won't  like 
me  in  New  York.  I  do  very  well  in  the  country,  among 
the  sweet-fern  bushes  and  the  bobolinks,  but  I  should  be 
quite  lost  in  one  of  your  New  York  palaces." 

"No,  but  you  must  come  and  show  New  Yorkers  what 


218  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

a  country  girl  can  be.  Why,  Pussy,  you  are  a  great  deal 
better  educated  than  I  am,  even  in  things  where  I  have 
had  more  advantages  than  you,  just  because  you  have  had 
to  struggle  for  them;  you  have  really  set  your  heart  on 
them,  and  so  have  got  them.  Knowledge  has  just  been 
rubbed  on  to  me  upon  the  outside,  while  you  have  opened 
your  mind,  and  stretched  out  your  arms  to  it,  and  taken  it 
in  with  all  your  heart." 

Emily  would  not  be  denied,  and  Pussy's  mother  said 
that  she  ought  to  have  some  little  holiday,  she  had  always 
been  such  a  good  girl;  and  so  it  was  arranged  that  she 
should  go  back  to  New  York  with  Emily  when  she  went. 

But  Emily  was  in  no  hurry  to  go  back,  for,  as  autumn 
came  on,  and  the  long  fine  days  grew  cooler,  she  found 
that  she  could  walk  farther  and  farther,  and  spend  more 
and  more  time  in  the  open  air.  She  had  great  fun  in 
going  chestnutting,  out  under  the  bright  gold- colored  chest 
nut-trees,  where  the  prickly  burrs  opened  and  showered 
down  abundance  of  ripe,  glossy  nuts.  Emily  would  some 
times  come  home  long  after  dark,  having  spent  a  whole 
afternoon  in  searching  and  tossing  about  the  golden  leaves, 
and  bearing  her  bag  of  chestnuts  in  triumph,  —  and  so 
hungry  that  good  brown  bread  and  milk  tasted  like  the 
most  delicious  luxury. 

Then  there  were  walnuts,  and  butternuts,  and  wild 
forest  grapes,  and  bright  crimson  barberries,  all  of  which 
the  young  maidens  went  forth  to  seek,  and  in  pursuit  of 
which  they  garnered  health  and  strength  and  happiness. 

"Why,  Dr.  Hardback,"  said  Emily's  mother,  "I  don't 
see  as  we  shall  ever  get  our  Emily  home  again.  I  keep 
writing  and  writing,  and  still  she  says  she  isn't  ready; 
there  is  always  something  ahead." 

"Let  her  alone,  ma'am,  let  her  alone,"  said  the  Doctor. 
"Give  Nature  a  chance  more;  you'll  all  be  tumbling  on 
to  her,  and  trying  to  undo  all  the  good  she  's  getting,  as 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  219 

soon  as  you  get  her  home;  so  let  her  stay  as  long  as  possi 
ble." 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Hardhack,  you  are  so  queer ! " 

"Truth,  ma'am!"  said  the  Doctor.  "You  are  perfectly 
longing  to  kill  that  child;  it 's  all  you  can  do  to  allow  her 
a  chance  to  breathe.  But  I  insist  upon  it  that  she  shall 
keep  away  from  you  as  long  as  she  has  a  mind  to." 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  queer  old  dear  as  Dr.  Hard- 
hack?"  said  Emily's  mother.  "He  does  say  the  oddest 
things!" 

So  in  the  next  chapter  we  shall  tell  you  about  Pussy's 
adventures  in  New  York. 


XV 

"WELL  now,  Dr.  Hardback,  doesn't  our  Emily  look 
beautifully?"  said  Emily's  mother  and  grandmother  and 
aunt,  all  in  one  breath. 

Emily  had  come  home  from  her  long  abode  in  the  coun 
try,  and  had  brought  her  friend  Pussy  Willow  with  her; 
and  they  were  sitting  together  now,  a  pair  of  about  as  rosy 
young  females  as  one  should  wish  to  see  of  a  summer  day. 

Dr.  Hardback  turned  round,  and  glared  through  his 
spectacles  at  Emily.  "Pretty  fair,'7  he  said;  "pretty  fair! 
A  tolerable  summer's  work,  that!  "  —  and  he  gave  a  pinch 
to  Emily's  rosy  cheek.  "Firm  fibre,  that!  real  hard  flesh, 
made  of  clover  and  morning  dew,  —  none  of  your  flabby, 
sidewalk,  skinny  construction." 

"  Well  now,  Doctor,  we  want  you  to  tell  us  just  what 
she  may  do,  — just  how  much.  I  suppose  you  know,  now 
she  's  got  into  a  city,  she  can't  dress  exactly  as  she  did  up 
in  the  country." 

"I  see,  I  see,"  said  Dr.  Hardback;  "I  take  at  once." 

"You  see,"  said  Aunt  Zarviah,  "there  isn't  a  thing  of 
all  her  clothes  that  she  can  wear,  having  been  all  summer 
in  those  loose  sacks,  you  know.  She 's  sort  o'  spread 
out,  you  see." 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  Dr.  Hardback.  "Well,  my 
advice  is,  that  you  begin  gradually  screwing  her  up;  get 
her  corsets  ready,  with  plenty  of  whalebone  and  a  good 
tough  lace;  but  don't  begin  too  hard, — just  tighten  a 
little  every  day,  and  by  and  by  she  '11  get  back  to  where 
all  her  things  will  fit  her  exactly." 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  221 

"But,  Doctor,  won't  that  injure  her  health?"  said  the 
mamma. 

"Of  course  it  will,  but  I  fancy  she  '11  stand  it  for  one 
winter;  it  won't  quite  kill  her,  and  that's  all  we  doctors 
want.  If  it  suits  you  all,  it  does  me,  I  'm  sure.  What 
should  I  do  for  my  bread  and  butter,  if  all  the  girls  of 
good  families  kept  on  living  as  these  two  have  been  living 
this  summer?  I  really  couldn't  afford  it,  in  a  professional 
point  of  view." 

"Well,  J  have  something  to  say  on  this  point,"  said 
Emily.  "I  wouldn't  lose  my  health  again  for  anything 
that  can  be  named." 

"Oh,  pooh,  pooh!  I've  heard  a  deal  of  talk  of  this 
sort  before  now.  When  patients  are  first  up  from  a  sick 
ness,  how  prudent  they  mean  to  be ! 

'  When  the  Devil  was  sick,  the  Devil  a  rnonk  would  be,  — 
When  the  Devil  got  well,  the  Devil  a  monk  was  he.'  " 

"Thank  you,  Doctor,"  said  Miss  Emily;  "but  I  think 
that  poetry  doesn't  apply  to  me,  if  you  please.  I  hope 
I  'm  not  of  that  family." 

"Well,  — but  seriously,  Doctor,  you  must  tell  us  just 
how  much  it  will  do  for  Emily  to  do,"  said  the  mamma. 
"One  doesn't  want  to  give  up  the  world  entirely,  and  yet 
one  doesn't  want  to  lose  one's  health." 

"I  see,"  said  the  Doctor;  "I  appreciate  the  case  en 
tirely.  Well,  let  her  begin  with  the  opera  twice  a  week, 
and  one  German,  kept  up  till  daylight.  In  one  week  she 
will  feel  stronger  than  ever  she  did,  and  declare  that 
nothing  hurts  her;  then  she  can  take  two  Germans,  and 
then  three,  and  so  on.  Fact  is,"  said  the  Doctor,  "of  all 
the  devices  of  modern  society,  none  is  so  good  for  the 
medical  practice  as  these  Germans;  my  best  cases  are  made 
out  of  'em;  they  unite  all  the  requisites  for  forming  first- 
rate  patients  that  keep  on  our  hands  for  months  and  years, 
and  are  as  good  as  an  annuity  to  us.  I  'm  not  a  fool, 


222  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

madam.  I  must  look  ahead  for  my  bread  and  butter  next 
spring,  you  see." 

"But,  Doctor,  I'm  not  going  to  Germans  at  all,"  said 
Emily,  stoutly.  "I  know  now  what  life  is,  and  what 
health  is  worth,  and  I  'm  not  going  to  waste  it  in  that 
way.  Besides,  I  'm  going  to  try  to  live  for  something 
better. " 

"Live  for  something  better!  "  said  the  Doctor.  "What 
sort  of  talk  is  that  for  a  young  lady  in  the  first  New  York 
society?  What  is  there  to  live  for  better?  I  thought  of 
it  the  other  night  when  I  was  at  a  confirmation  at  Grace 
Church,  and  saw  a  whole  bevy  of  pretty  creatures,  who  all 
were  engaging  to  'fight  manfully  under  Christ's  banner,' 
and  thought  where  they  would  be  before  spring.  Whirl 
ing  round  all  night  in  a  low-necked  dress  is  the  kind  of 
fighting  they  do;  and  then  I  'm  called  in  as  hospital  sur 
geon  to  the  dear  disciples  when  they  are  carried  off  the 
field  exhausted.  I  know  all  about  it.  You  can't,  of 
course,  live  for  anything  better.  You  couldn't,  for  the 
world,  be  called  singular,  and  be  thought  to  have  odd 
notions,  —  could  you  1  That  would  be  too  horrible. 

"Now  I  knew  a  rich  New  York  girl  once  who  took  to 
bad  courses.  She  would  go  round  visiting  the  poor,  she 
would  sit  up  with  sick  people,  and  there  was  no  end  to  the 
remarks  made  about  her.  People  clearly  saw  how  wicked 
it  was  of  her  to  risk  her  health  in  that  way,  —  how  late 
hours  and  bad  air  and  fatigue  would  certainly  undermine 
her  health,  —  and  she  was  quite  cast  out  of  the  synagogue. 
You  mustn't  breathe  bad  air  or  over-exert  yourself,  unless 
you  do  so  from  a  purely  selfish  motive;  then  it 's  all  right 
and  proper,  —  this  is  our  New  York  gospel. " 

Pussy  Willow's  blue  eyes  were  open  very  wide  on  the 
Doctor  as  he  spoke,  and  there  was  a  laugh  in  them,  though 
she  did  not  laugh  otherwise.  The  Doctor  caught  the 
expression,  and  shook  his  cane  at  her. 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  223 

"Oh,  you  needn't  sit  there  looking  mischievous,  miss. 
What  do  you  know  of  life  ?  You  're  nothing  but  a  country 
girl,  and  you  know  no  more  of  it  than  the  bobolinks  and 
chip- squirrels  do.  You  '11  soon  learn  to  be  ashamed  of 
your  roses,  and  to  think  it 's  pretty  to  have  bad  health. 
I  '11  bet  a  copper  that  you  '11  begin  a  course  of  corsets  in 
a  fortnight,  and  by  spring  we  shall  send  you  back  to  your 
milk-pails  as  white  and  withered  as  Miss  Emily  there. 
It 's  astonishing  how  fast  we  can  run  a  girl  down,  taking 
one  thing  with  another,  —  the  corsets,  and  the  hot  rooms 
with  plenty  of  gas  escaping  into  them  from  leaky  tubes, 
and  then  operas  and  Germans  for  every  night  in  the  week. 
Of  course  it 's  a  charity  to  give  you  a  good  stiff  dose  of  it; 
it's  hospitality,  you  see." 

"Now,  Doctor  Hardback,  you  dreadful  man,"  said  Em 
ily,  "you  must  stop  this  talk.  I  brought  Pussy  down  here 
on  purpose  to  have  somebody  to  help  me  to  live  better  than 
I  have  lived.  We  shall  just  take  a  peep  or  two  at  New 
York  sights,  but  we  are  not  going  into  the  gay  world." 

"Ta,  ta,  ta!  don't  tell  me,"  said  the  Doctor,  shaking 
his  cane  playfully  at  her;  "you  won't  be  so  unfair  as  to 
cut  me  in  that  way.  I  shall  hear  of  you  yet,  — you'll 
see ; "  and  so  the  Doctor  departed. 

"  What  a  droll  man  he  is ! "  said  Pussy. 

"It 's  just  his  way,"  said  Emily's  mother;  "he  }s  always 
running  on  in  this  strange  way  about  everything.  For  my 
part,  I  never  know  half  what  he  means." 

"It  is  tolerably  plain  what  he  means,"  said  Emily. 
"  You  must  do  exactly  contrary  to  what  he  tells  you,  — 
as  I  shall;  so,  aunty,  don't  trouble  yourself  to  try  to  alter 
my  things,  unless  it  be  to  let  them  all  out,  for  I  'm  going 
to  keep  all  the  breathing-room  I  've  got,  whether  I  have 
a  pretty  waist  or  not.  I  'd  rather  have  color  in  my  cheeks, 
and  a  cheerful  heart,  than  the  smallest  waist  that  ever  was 
squeezed  together." 


224  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

"Such  a  pity  one  couldn't  have  both!"  said  Aunt  Zar- 
viah.  "Your  cousin  Jane  was  in  here  last  week  with  her 
new  bismarck  silk,  and  it  fits  her  so  beautifully!  Some 
body  said  she  looked  as  if  she  'd  been  melted  and  poured 
into  it;  there  wasn't  a  crease  or  a  wrinkle!  It  did  look 
lovely!" 

"Well,  Aunt  Zarviah,  I  must  try  some  other  way  of 
looking  lovely.  Maybe,  if  I  am  always  gay  and  happy, 
and  in  good  spirits,  and  have  a  fresh  bright  face,  it  may 
make  up  for  not  looking  as  if  I  had  been  melted  and 
poured  into  my  clothes." 

To  do  Emily  justice,  she  showed  a  good  deal  of  spirit 
in  her  New  York  life.  She  and  Pussy  agreed  to  continue 
together  their  course  of  reading  and  study  for  at  least  two 
hours  a  day;  then  they  both  took  classes  in  a  mission 
Sunday  school,  which  was  held  in  the  Church  of  the  Good 
Shepherd,  and  they  took  up  their  work  in  real  good  ear 
nest. 

"Now,"  said  Emily,  "I  am  not  going  to  give  my  class 
just  the  odds  and  ends  and  parings  of  strength  which 
I  have  left  after  I  have  spent  almost  all  in  amusing  my 
self;  but  I  mean  to  do  just  the  other  way,  and  spend 
the  strength  left  from  really  useful  things  in  amusing  my 
self." 

The  girls  kept  a  list  of  their  classes,  and  used  regularly 
every  week  to  visit  the  families  from  which  the  children 
came.  In  the  course  of  these  visits  they  found  much  else 
to  do.  They  saw  much  of  the  life  of  the  poor;  they  saw 
paths  daily  opening  before  them  in  which  the  outlay  of 
a  little  time  and  a  little  money  enabled  them  to  help  some 
poor  struggling  family  to  keep  up  a  respectable  standing; 
they  learned  the  real  worth  of  both  time  and  money;  and 
the  long  walks  they  took  in  all  weathers  in  the  open  air 
kept  up  their  strength  and  vigor.  They  went  occasionally 
of  an  evening  to  some  of  the  best  sights  in  New  York,  and 


LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW  225 

they  saw  what  was  really  worth  seeing;  but  they  did  not 
make  a  winter's  work  of  rushing  from  one  amusement  to 
another. 

On  the  whole,  the  two  girls,  in  spite  of  Doctor  Hard- 
hack,  proved  that  a  temperate,  sober,  healthy,  useful  life 
might  be  led  even  in  the  higher  circles  of  New  York. 

Dr.  Hardback  used  to  pretend  to  fly  into  a  passion  when 
he  saw  them,  —  shook  his  stick  at  them  wrathfully,  ex 
claiming,  "  What  is  to  become  of  me  if  you  go  on  so  1 " 
and  threatening  to  denounce  them.  "It's  a  conspiracy 
against  our  bread  and  butter,  the  way  these  girls  go  on," 
he  said.  "I  sha'n't  have  a  shadow  of  a  case  in  Miss 
Emily,  and  I  'm  an  abused  man." 

So  passed  a  pleasant  winter,  when  one  morning  all  New 
York  waked  up  in  arms.  Emily's  father  brought  home 
the  newspaper, — there  was  a  war;  Emily's  brother  came 
rushing  in  all  out  of  breath,  —  "  The  New  York  Seventh 
has  got  to  be  off  in  a  twinkling.  Girls,  good-by." 

You  remember,  my  little  readers,  those  first  days  of  the 
last  war.  What  a  stir  and  commotion  there  was  every 
where  through  all  the  families  in  the  country!  Fathers 
and  brothers  and  lovers  and  husbands  were  marching  off, 
and  the  women  left  at  home  were  so  wishing  and  longing 
to  be  able  to  do  anything  to  help  them ! 

That  was  the  time  when  every  man  and  woman  that  was 
good  for  anything  wished  that  they  were  richer  and  wiser 
and  stronger  than  they  were,  that  they  might  be  able  to 
do  more  for  their  country. 

Emily  and  her  friend  had  hardly  time  to  think,  the 
thing  had  burst  upon  them  so  suddenly,  and  George 
Proudie  was  gone  from  them  in  an  hour. 

That  day  nobody  in  the  house  did  anything  but  walk 
restlessly  about  the  house  and  look  aimlessly  out  of  the 
windows,  till  the  Seventh  Regiment  came  down  the  street 
with  banners  flying  and  drums  beating.  Then  the  flags 


226  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

were  waved  from  all  the  houses,  and  flowers  were  showered 
down,  and  people  shouted  and  wept  as  they  went  by. 

"Nobody  knows  whether  we  shall  ever  see  George 
again,"  said  Emily's  mother,  crying. 

"Oh,  why  was  I  not  a  man1?"  said  Emily.  "Why 
could  I  not  go  with  him  ? " 

Emily's  cheeks  were  flushed  and  her  eyes  bright,  and 
she  looked  full  a  head  taller  than  usual.  She  was  waked 
up  all  through  her  heart  and  soul  to  feel  the  joy  and  glory 
of  doing  something,  of  living  a  strong,  active,  vigorous 
life;  and  she  felt  that  to  go  out  to  suffer  hardships,  and 
brave  dangers,  and  endure  toil  and  self-denial  for  a  noble 
object,  had  something  in  it  happier  than  to  live  in  ease 
and  luxury. 

"I  am  sick  of  all  these  things,"  she  said  to  Pussy  that 
night,  when  they  were  in  their  chamber. 

The  "things"  she  pointed  at  were  a  confused  mass  of 
French  dresses,  and  her  toilet  covered  with  fancy  jewelry. 
"I  never  knew  before  what  a  brave  boy  our  George  was," 
she  added.  "Do  you  know  he  told  me  that  he  was  going 
to  be  in  the  thickest  of  all  the  fighting,  and  volunteer  to 
go  into  every  danger.  Isn't  it  splendid  of  him? " 

"Yes,  indeed  it  is,"  said  Pussy,  with  sparkling  eyes. 
"I  know  my  brothers  have  enlisted.  Here  is  the  letter 
mother  writes  about  them.  Three  of  them  gone  in  one 
regiment,  and  only  one  left  to  help  father!  He  wanted 
to  go,  but  they  felt  it  was  the  duty  of  one  to  stay,  and  so 
he  stayed ! " 

The  two  girls  lay  awake  half  the  night,  wishing  that 
they  too  could  go  for  soldiers. 


XVI 

WELL,  the  war  went  on  and  on  and  on,  and  got  to  be 
a  graver  thing  every  day.  What  times  those  were,  to  be 
sure!  Wasn't  everything  for  a  while  turned  topsy-turvy? 
Those  were  days  when  all  who  had  any  capacity  in  them 
that  was  good  for  anything  were  sure  to  find  it  out  and 
have  it  called  into  use.  People  who  do  great  things  and 
good  things  at  such  times  do  them  because  they  have  been 
laying  up  strength  beforehand,  and  training  themselves  in 
body  and  mind.  Then,  when  the  time  comes  to  use  their 
faculties,  they  have  them  all  ready,  and  know  just  where 
to  find  them. 

Very  soon  came  the  news  of  battles  and  skirmishes,  and 
then  of  precious  blood  shed.  Then  of  battles  that  left 
ever  so  many  of  the  noblest  and  most  precious  of  our 
Northern  soldiers  wounded  and  bleeding.  Cannot  all  of 
you  remember  how  the  mothers  and  daughters  and  sisters, 
all  over  the  country,  flew  to  their  relief,  —  how  societies 
were  formed,  and  women  worked  day  and  night  to  send 
aid  to  the  brave  men  who  were  fighting  our  battles  on  the 
field? 

Then,  had  you  been  in  New  York,  you  must  have  seen 
the  City  Park  lined  along  its  edges  with  barracks  thrown 
up  to  receive  the  wounded  soldiers.  Within  were  long 
lines  of  neat  beds  where  the  poor  fellows  lay.  There  you 
might  have  seen  a  pretty  young  girl,  dressed  in  deep 
mourning,  who  came  every  day  with  her  little  basket  on 
her  arm,  leaving  at  many  a  couch  some  token  of  her  gentle 
presence  and  loving  care.  This  is  the  girl  that  was  once 


228  LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW 

the  idle,  selfish  Emily  Proudie.  What  is  she  now  ?  To 
the  poor  suffering  men  whom  she  visits  every  day  she 
seems  like  an  angel;  and  as  she  passes  among  them  she 
leaves  a  bunch  of  flowers  here,  an  interesting  book  or 
pamphlet  there.  Sometimes  there  is  a  little  bottle  of 
cologne,  or  a  palm  leaf  fan,  or  a  delicate,  nicely  hemmed 
handkerchief,  —  luxuries  for  the  sick-bed  of  which  her 
kind  eye  sees  the  need  here  and  there.  Occasionally  she 
will  sit  for  an  hour  at  a  time  by  some  poor  feverish  boy, 
fanning  away  the  flies,  that  he  may  sleep,  and  perhaps 
singing  a  sweet  hymn.  Once  she  used  to  get  vast  credit 
for  singing  French  and  Italian  songs  with  a  great  many 
shakes  and  trills  in  them,  which  it  fatigued  her  very  much 
to  learn,  and  which,  when  she  got  through  with  them, 
people  complimented  her  for  as  wonderfully  well  done. 
Now  she  sang  some  simple  airs  from  a  soldier's  tune-book; 
and  when  her  tender  voice  rose,  it  was  in  words  like 
these :  — 

"Sweet  hour  of  prayer,  sweet  hour  of  prayer, 
That  calls  me  from  a  world  of  care, 
And  bids  me  at  my  Father's  throne 
Make  all  my  wants  and  wishes  known." 

Often,  while  she  was  singing,  there  would  be  such  a 
stillness  all  up  and  down  the  hospital  that  you  might  hear 
a  pin  drop,  and  you  might  see  hard,  dark  hands  brushing 
away  tears  quietly ;  and  then  the  men  would  speak  softly 
of  pious  mothers,  at  whose  knees  they  learned  to  pray  long 
years  ago. 

You  remember  the  days  when  Emily  had  everybody  in 
the  house  at  her  feet,  waiting  on  her,  and  yet  was  full  of 
disgust  and  weariness.  In  those  days  her  back  ached, 
and  her  head  ached,  and  everything  constantly  troubled 
her ;  her  dresses  never  were  trimmed  to  suit  her,  and 
everything  went  wrong  with  her  from  morning  to  night. 

Now  she  is  a  different  girl  indeed.     She  wears  a  plain 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  229 

mourning  dress  for  her  dear  brother,  who  was  one  of  the 
first  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his  country;  but  her  dress 
costs  her  little  thought  and  little  care,  because  her  heart  is 
full  of  sweeter  and  nobler  things.  Emily  is  living  no 
more  for  self,  she  is  living  for  others;  she  has  learned  the 
Saviour's  beautiful  lesson  that  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive,  and  she  finds  it  so.  She  uses  every  day 
all  the  strength  she  has,  resolutely  and  systematically,  in 
some  good  works  of  charity.  Besides  going  to  the  hospi 
tal,  she  went  often  to  the  rooms  of  the  Soldiers'  Aid 
Society  to  cut  out  work,  and  she  took  some  home  with 
her,  that  every  hour  might  be  usefully  employed.  She 
wrote  letters  for  the  poor  fellows  who  were  too  feeble  to 
write  for  themselves,  and  told  distant  mothers  and  friends 
how  their  beloved  ones  were  doing.  Many  of  Miss  Emily's 
letters  are  treasured  in  distant  dwellings  in  the  country, 
where  her  face  has  never  been  seen,  because  they  are  all 
the  tidings  that  remain  of  some  dear  one  forever  lost  to 
earth. 

Emily's  mamma  and  aunts  declared  that  the  dear  child 
was  doing  too  much,  and  actually  wearing  herself  out ;  but 
Emily  found  one  great  secret,  and  that  was,  when  she  had 
used  all  her  strength  in  good  works,  to  look  humbly  to  her 
Father  in  secret  for  more, —  and  this  strength  always  came. 

"  Are  n't  you  afraid,  Doctor,  that  Emily  will  wear  her 
self  out  with  visiting  the  hospitals  and  working  for  the 
soldiers  ?  "  said  anxious  mamma. 

The  Doctor  gave  her  a  good  look  through  his  great  round 
spectacles. 

"  I  think  she  '11  stand  it,"  he  said,  "  rather  better  than 
she  used  to  stand  the  opera  and  the  German  some  winters 
ago." 

"  And  if  I  don't,"  said  Emily,  "  I  'd  rather  wear  out  than 
rust  out.  I  have  found  out  what  life  is  good  for  now." 

As  to  Pussy  Willow,  she  had  a  brother  who  rose  to  be  a 


230  LITTLE    PUSSY   WILLOW 

general,  and  had  command  of  a  whole  State,  and  she  went 
to  the  South  to  keep  house  for  him.  One  of  the  largest 
hospitals  in  the  Southern  Department  was  conducted  under 
her  eye  and  care,  and  a  most  capital  one  it  was.  She  had 
strength,  the  result  of  years  of  healthy  energy,  to  give  to  the 
service  of  her  country.  She  had  experience  in  the  use  of 
her  hands,  and  could  do  everything  in  the  neatest  and 
quickest  way ;  and  when  a  hundred  desperately  wounded 
men  are  brought  in  at  once  to  be  relieved  and  made  comfort 
able,  nobody  without  experience  can  tell  how  important  it  is 
to  know  how  to  do  exactly  the  right  thing  in  the  least  time. 
The  nights  that  Pussy  has  been  up  in  her  hospital  kitchen, 
making  soup  and  gruel  and  coffee,  when  the  wounded  were 
being  brought  in  after  a  battle  !  She  moved  so  quickly 
that  she  seemed  to  be  everywhere ;  she  directed  everybody 
and  everything,  and  wherever  anything  seemed  in  danger 
of  going  wrong,  there  she  was  in  a  trice,  and  set  it  right 
again. 

Nobody  knows  the  amount  of  work  done  by  fair,  delicate 
women  in  those  days.  They  did  not  turn  aside  from  any 
horror,  they  did  not  spare  themselves  any  fatigue,  they 
called  no  service  beneath  them  whereby  they  could  relieve 
a  pain.  Among  these  heroines  our  Pussy  was  foremost. 
Those  blue  eyes  of  hers  became  stars  of  hope  to  many  a 
poor  fellow,  and  her  ministering  hands  seemed  to  have  the 
very  gift  of  healing  in  them.  She  overlooked  the  stores 
sent  by  the  Sanitary  Commission,  and  saw  that  they  were 
wisely  kept  and  administered.  She  wrote  to  the  North  for 
whatever  was  wanting,  and  kept  her  patients  well  and  care 
fully  clothed,  fed,  tended,  and  nursed.  Many  letters  passed 
between  her  and  Emily  in  this  labor  of  love,  and  many  a 
nice  package  of  shirts  and  stockings  came  down  to  her  from 
Emily's  Fifth  Avenue  sewing  association.  So  these  two 
girls  were  united  in  the  service  of  their  country. 

And,  in  this  war,  it  was  the  women,  no  less  than  the  men, 


LITTLE   PUSSY   WILLOW  231 

that  saved  the  country.  If  there  had  not  been  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  brave  women  who  did  as  Miss  Emily  and  our 
Pussy  did,  thousands  of  dear  and  precious  lives  must  have 
been  wasted,  and  the  war  could  not  have  come  to  so  glori 
ous  an  end. 

Well,  peace  came  at  last.  How  glad  we  all  were  !  And 
all  our  generals  and  colonels  came  North  again,  and  laid 
aside  their  titles,  and  went  to  work  at  their  farms  and  mer 
chandise  as  quietly  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  But 
the  people  where  Pussy  lives  still  persist  in  calling  her  bro 
ther  General,  and  his  coat  with  the  gold  star  on  it  is  hung 
up  with  his  sword  in  the  little  cottage  where  our  story 
began. 

As  to  Pussy,  she  has  married  lately,  and  gone  to  live  in 
New  York.  She  lives  in  a  nice  brown-stone  house  in  Fifth 
Avenue,  not  far  from  Miss  Emily,  and  the  two  girls  are 
more  intimate  than  ever.  People  do  say  that  the  General, 
Pussy's  brother,  is  going  to  marry  Miss  Emily,  and  so  they 
will,  by  and  by,  be  sisters.  I  can't  say  certainly  as  to  that ; 
I  only  know  that  they  are  a  great  deal  together  ;  and  on 
the  \vhole,  if  my  young  folks  will  have  it  so,  I  guess  we 
will  finish  up  our  story  that  way. 

It  is  agreed  that  Pussy  is  always  to  spend  her  summers 
at  the  old  homestead  where  she  first  saw  the  light,  where 
the  bright  pussy-willow  bush  tassels  out  early  in  March 
under  the  chamber  windows,  and  the  old  grandmotherly 
ferns,  with  their  woolly  nightcaps,  peep  out  to  see  whether 
it  will  do  to  unroll  and  come  up  into  this  upper  world. 

Pussy  is  right,  for  the  good  fairies  dwell  in  these  quiet 
country  places.  Do  you  want  to  see  one,  my  dear  Charlotte 
or  my  blue-eyed  Mary  ?  Well,  the  next  time  you  get  a 
chance  to  look  down  into  a  clear  spring,  or  a  deep  well  all 
fringed  with  ferns,  if  the  water  is  very  still  and  clear,  per 
haps  you  will  see  one  smiling  and  looking  amiably  at  you. 

Now  remember  to  be  a  good  girl,  and  live  to  help  other 


232  LITTLE   PUSSY  WILLOW 

people.  Begin  by  being,  as  Pussy  was,  a  kind,  helpful 
daughter  to  your  mother,  who  has  done  more  for  you  than 
you  have  any  idea  of ;  and  remember  that  your  happiness 
consists  in  what  you  give  and  what  you  do,  and  not  in 
what  you  receive  and  have  done  for  you. 
And  now  good-by. 


THE  MINISTERS  WATEKMELONS 

I 

IT  was  a  proud  day  in  my  life  when  I  first  counted  my 
self  as  an  academy  boy  in  Highland  Academy. 

Highland  was  about  as  still  and  dreamy  a  little  village 
as  one  could  see  among  the  White  Mountains  ;  but  it  was  a 
grand,  lively  metropolis,  compared  to  Blueberry,  where  my 
tender  years  were  spent,  and  where  I  acquired  sufficient  pri 
mary  knowledge  to  enable  me  to  graduate  into  Highland 
Academy. 

I  remember  now  my  emotions,  as,  seated  on  the  top  of 
the  stage,  with  a  very  ancient  and  dilapidated  hair  trunk 
as  the  repository  of  my  worldly  goods,  we  came  dashing  into 
Highland  in  a  glorious  cloud  of  dust,  which  the  setting  ra 
diance  of  the  afternoon  sun  illuminated  with  splendor. 
"  Here  we  go,"  thought  I,  as  two  dogs  barked,  and  some 
roosting  hens  flew  down  and  cackled,  and  a  cat  ran  away 
from,  before  us,  and  a  flock  of  geese  opened  their  beaks,  and 
flapped  their  wings,  and  hissed,  and  the  driver  cracked  his 
whip,  and  the  clerks  of  the  one  country  store,  where  the 
post-office  was  kept,  came  and  stood  out  in  the  porch,  while 
a  half-dozen  boys  sat  on  a  fence  and  waved  their  hats. 
"  This  is  something  like  life,"  thought  I,  and  my  breast 
heaved,  as  I  thought  of  the  confined  stillness  of  Blueberry, 
which  was  nine  miles  from  any  stage  station. 

The  academy  I  surveyed  with  awe.  It  was  quite  as  big 
as  our  meeting-house,  and  had  a  bell  on  it,  which  our  meet 
ing-house  did  not  have.  My  heart  fluttered  and  thumped 


234  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

when  I  was  set  down  at  Deacon  Jones's.  I  was  now,  as 
my  father  and  mother  had  reminded  me,  in  a  long  talk  the 
evening  before,  going  to  begin  life  for  myself. 

I  ordered  down  my  hair  trunk  and  paid  my  fare  with  a 
high  sense  of  responsibility.  Deacon  Jones  stood  on  the 
doorstep,  —  a  little,  thin,  wiry  man,  with  a  long,  sharp 
nose,  attired  in  a  fluttering  red  calico  dressing-gown.  He 
was,  at  the  moment,  contemplatively  chewing  a  long  bit  of 
straw,  for  which  he  appeared  to  have  a  relish. 

When  I  gave  him  a  letter  from  my  father,  and  stood 
waiting,  trunk  in  hand,  he  opened  it  with  great  crackling, 
wiped  his  spectacles  a  great  many  times,  and  read  it  over  as 
if  he  found  difficulty  in  making  it  out,  and  then,  contem 
plating  me  through  his  spectacles,  he  drawled  out,  — 

"  Wai,  I  calculate  we  can  take  you.  You  '11  have  to  go 
into  No.  2.  Miss  Jones  '11  show  you  the  way.  Miss  Jones," 
he  continued,  turning  round,  with  a  nutter  of  the  red  double 
gown,  "  there  aint  but  one  boy  in  "No.  2,  is  there  ?  " 

An  anxious,  hot-looking  woman  came  out  of  some  inner 
apartment,  and,  taking  a  hasty  glance  at  me,  said,  "  This 
way,  if  you  please,"  and  I  followed,  with  my  hair  trunk  on 
my  shoulder,  up  an  echoing  pair  of  bare,  painted  stairs,  into 
a  large  front  room,  the  windows  of  which,  on  one  side, 
opened  upon  two  large  maple-trees,  and  on  the  other  upon 
a  glorious  blue  vista  of  mountains. 

There  was  one  boy  already  there,  and  two  more  expected. 
Jimmy  Seaforth,  the  present  occupant,  was  a  little,  white- 
haired,  blue-eyed,  gentle-spoken  fellow,  who  seemed  to  look 
up  to  me  with  a  sort  of  apprehension  as  I  came  in.  This 
rather  nattered  my  self-importance,  and  forthwith  a  friend 
ship  was  struck  up  between  us,  and  we  agreed  to  be  bedfel 
lows,  whoever  else  might  come  to  occupy  the  other  bed. 

I  felt  very  grand  as  I  took  out  my  Latin  books,  and 
arranged  them  strikingly  on  the  shelf,  instructing  Jimmy,  all 
the  while,  and  giving  him  the  benefit,  gratis,  of  the  wisdom 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  235 

and  sage  counsel  with  which  my  father,  and  mother,  and 
aunts  had  filled  my  head,  on  the  grand  and  solemn  occasion 
of  my  entering  Highland  Academy. 

I  examined  him  concerning  his  studies,  gave  him  the 
benefit  of  my  opinion  in  a  most  liberal  manner,  and  promised 
to  stand  by  him  in  case  of  any  emergency.  Jimmy  was 
naturally  of  a  timid,  apprehensive  disposition,  and  took  to 
twining  around  me  as  naturally  as  a  youthful  bean-vine  takes 
to  a  friendly  bean-pole. 

The  next  day  we  were  examined  and  classed.  I  was  to 
begin  Virgil  with  three  other  boys  and  two  girls.  Myra 
Jones  was  one,  and  Lucy  Sewell  the  other.  Myra  was  large- 
boned,  dark-complexioned,  with  a  big,  heavy  waist ;  but 
Lucy  Sewell  was  slender  and  golden-haired,  with  great  blue 
eyes,  and  cheeks  like  a  sweet  pea.  She  was  the  minister's 
oldest  daughter,  and  the  very  first  sight  of  her  filled  me  with 
the  strangest  mixture  of  pleasure  and  discomfort  I  had  ever 
experienced.  I  remembered,  with  horror,  that,  in  my  haste 
in  dressing  that  morning,  I  had  put  on  a  shirt-collar  with  a 
streak  of  smut  upon  it.  "  Who  cares  ?  "  I  thought  as  I 
stood  before  the  looking-glass.  But  then  I  did  not  know 
that  I  was  to  sit  side  by  side  with  Lucy  in  the  Virgil  class. 

We  all  had  to  read  and  construe  in  turn,  and  this  miser 
able  bit  of  smut  on  my  collar  became  so  active  in  my  imagi 
nation  that  I  could  hardly  get  my  moods  and  tenses  right, 
and  I  made  one  or  two  mistakes,  which  further  covered  me 
with  confusion. 

I  knew  the  first  book  in  Virgil  almost  by  heart,  and  was 
burning  to  distinguish  myself,  but  I  was  so  harassed  by  this 
little  fiend,  that  I  was  actually  puzzled  to  translate  one  of 
the  most  familiar  phrases.  There  was  a  movement  and  a 
flutter  next  me,  as  of  dove's  wings,  and  Lucy  Sewell  consid 
erately  knocked  down  a  book,  and,  as  she  stooped  to  pick  it 
up,  she  whispered  the  right  phrase  in  my  ear. 

It  set  me  straight.     I  recovered  myself,  grew  more  com- 


236  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

posed,  and  went  through  with  credit.  I  looked  up  to  thank 
my  good  angel,  but  Lucy  was  blushing  redder  than  I,  with 
her  eyes  fixed  in  most  innocent  ignorance  on  her  Virgil. 

Her  portion  of  the  lesson  was  construed  charmingly ;  so 
was  Myra's  ;  and  Myra  turned  out  to  be  a  first-rate  comrade, 
and  a  real  jolly  girl  —  a  fine  bit  of  the  good,  hearty  prose  of 
life  ;  but  Lucy  was  its  poetry. 

When  school  was  out,  I  tried  to  express,  in  my  best  style, 
my  thanks  for  her  kindness. 

"  Kindness,  Mr.  Somers  !  "  she  said ;   "  not  at  all." 

"  Mr.  Somers  !  "  and  by  those  pretty  lips.  At  home,  in 
Blueberry,  I  was  only  plain  Bill  Somers.  I  felt  taller  and 
grander  at  once ;  yet  somehow  I  felt  myself  blushing  like  a 
girl,  but  Miss  Lucy  was  as  quiet  and  cool  as  the  white  linen 
collar  round  her  throat.  The  girl  is  always  mistress  of  the 
situation  at  that  age.  Lucy,  I  found  afterwards,  was  only  a 
month  or  two  younger  than  myself,  but  full  a  year  older,  in 
womanly  gravity. 

Nevertheless,  she  let  me  carry  her  Virgil  and  dictionary 
for  her,  and  walk  beside  her  home,  the  most  delighted  of 
individuals. 

I  went  to  my  room,  feeling  grand  and  heroic ;  rushed  to 
the  looking-glass,  examined  the  state  of  my  whiskers  care 
fully,  and  remarked  to  Jimmy  that  the  way  the  hair  did 
grow  on  my  cheek  and  chin  was  astonishing !  It  was  really 
necessary  to  shave  every  day ;  and  Jimmy  admired  me 
accordingly.  I  studied  my  Virgil  like  a  hero,  overwhelmed 
Jimmy  with  good  advice  and  sage  counsels  till  a  late  hour 
that  night,  and  went  to  sleep,  feeling  that 
"Life  is  real,  life  is  earnest." 

I  wrote  home  to  my  mother  that  week  a  letter  filled  with 
the  most  profound  moral  reflections,  which  the  dear  woman 
carried  in  her  pocket,  and  read  over  at  least  a  dozen  times 
a  day.  On  Sunday,  I  recorded  punctually,  for  her  edification, 
the  heads  of  Mr.  Sewell's  two  sermons ;  and  my  behavior  at 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  237 

church  was  attentive  and  edifying  in  the  extreme ;  the  more 
so  that  Lucy  Sewell,  all  in  white,  and  with  a  wonderful  little 
bonnet  garlanded  with  sweet  peas,  sat  in  the  singers'  seat, 
and  I  thought  now  and  then  gave  me  a  friendly  look,  as  I 
sat  bending  over  my  notes.  That  first  week  was  a  glorified 
one,  but  alas  — 

Well,  what  of  the  alas  ? 

You  shall  hear. 


II 

FOB  the  first  two  weeks  I  had  it  all  my  own  way  in 
No.  2,  and  fancied  that  I  was  getting  to  be  quite  a  virtuous 
hero.  Jimmy  looked  up  to  me,  and  I  explained  his  lessons 
to  him,  and  gave  him  all  sorts  of  wise  counsel,  and  I  looked 
up  to  Lucy,  and  Lucy  was  gracious  to  me. 

I  had  taken  my  stand  as  one  of  the  best  scholars  in 
school,  and  the  master  gave  me  approving  glances.  The 
minister  cast  benignant  eyes  on  me,  when  I  stood  lounging 
at  his  front  gate  under  the  sugar  maples,  of  an  evening,  and 
talked  over  it  to  Lucy.  Sometimes  he  would  look  out  of 
his  study  window  and  say,  "  Come  in,  my  son,"  and  then 
I  came  and  sat  on  the  front  steps.  It  was  so  pleasant  to 
hear  Lucy  call  me  Mr.  Somers,  and  ask  my  opinion  about 
the  last  poem  of  the  day,  and  to  hold  grave  discussions  with 
her  on  all  sorts  of  subjects. 

Punctually  on  Wednesday  evening  I  called  to  walk  with 
her  to  the  weekly  evening  lecture,  sat  by  her  side,  and  sung 
out  of  the  same  hymn-book.  I  regarded  myself  as  far 
along  in  my  pilgrimage  of  virtue,  established  in  a  sort  of 
Palace  Beautiful,  and  Lucy  figured  in  my  eyes  as  the  fair 
damsel  named  Discretion,  who  kept  the  door.  I  did  not 
know  how  near  to  the  Palace  Beautiful  of  boys  often  lies 
the  Valley  of  Humiliation,  but  into  this  valley  it  was  my 
fortune  to  make  a  pretty  rapid  descent. 

There  were  rumors  that  two  more  boys  were  expected  in 
No.  2 ;  and  one  night,  when  I  sauntered  in  from  my  even 
ing  stroll,  I  found  Tom  Danforth  in  possession. 

"  Why,  is  n't  El  Vinton  here  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  expected 
to  find  him." 


THE   MINISTERS   WATERMELONS  239 

I  had  n't  even  heard  of  El  Yinton,  and  said  so. 

"  Not  heard  of  him  !  Why,  he  's  one  of  your  Beacon 
Street  mags/7  said  Tom.  "  His  father  lives  in  a  palace 
right  opposite  the  Frog  Pond,  there  on  Beacon  Street. 
El 's  jolly  ;  he  's  up  to  everything  that  's  going.  We  were 
in  the  Latin  School  together.  I  came  here  to  chum  with 
him." 

"  Why  does  n't  he  stay  in  the  Latin  School,  then  ?  " 
said  I,  not  well  pleased  with  the  idea  of  this  Boston  mag, 
as  Tom  called  him. 

"  Well,  El 's  up  to  too  many  tricks,  you  see.  The  fact 
is,  he  's  been  blowing  a  little  too  strong,  and  his  governor 
is  going  to  rusticate  him.  Sent  him  here  because  it  is  such 
a  sweet  little  innocent  place.  El  says  he  don't  care  a  darn  ; 
he  can  have  jolly  times  anywhere." 

And  sure  enough,  that  evening  El  came  down  in  state 
and  style  on  the  top  of  the  stage,  and  took  possession  in 
our  quiet  chamber  with  an  abundance  of  racket. 

"  Hello,  fellows  !  Who  's  here  ?  "  he  said,  when  he 
broke  into  the  apartment.  "  You  —  what 's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Somers  is  my  name,"  I  said,  endeavoring  to  maintain 
that  mild  dignity  of  demeanor  which  I  had  read  about  in 
story-books. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  don't  attempt  that  style,"  he  said,  as 
he  seated  himself  on  the  table  among  my  Latin  books,  and 
swung  his  feet  in  a  free-and-easy  manner.  "  Cultivate 
simplicity,  my  son,  and  tell  your  grandfather  your  name, 
like  a  good  boy." 

I  could  n't  help  laughing.  Tom  and  Jimmy  laughed, 
too,  and  I  felt  rather  uncomfortable  as  I  said,  "  Well,  my 
name  is  William." 

"  Well,  then,  here  we  all  are,  —  Tom,  Bill,  Jim,  and 
your  humble  servant,  El  Yinton,"  he  said;  "just  a  jolly 
room  full.  Now  hand  out  the  toothbrush  mugs,  or  what 
ever  drinking  weapons  you  've  got,  and  let 's  drink  to  better 


240  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

acquaintance.  Tom,  haul  that  hamper  this  way.  Let's 
make  friends  with  these  natives.  I'm  abominably  thirsty." 

In  a  moment  a  bottle  of  claret  was  produced  from  a 
well-stuffed  hamper,  the  top  dexterously  knocked  off  with 
a  skillful  blow  by  El  Vinton,  and  we  were  discussing 
crackers,  and  cheese,  and  claret  with  our  new  friend. 

Now,  in  my  native  village  of  Blueberry,  I  had  signed 
a  temperance  pledge,  and  at  first  I  had  some  faint  scruples, 
and  said  that  I  never  took  wine,  but  the  new  ruler  of  the 
apartment  put  me  down  with,  — 

"  Ah,  now,  my  boy,  don't  come  the  moral  dodge,  — 
nothing  but  weak  red  ink,  you  know  !  I  knew  the  grub 
here  7d  be  abominable,  and  so  I  came  stocked,  —  and  share 
all  round  ?s  my  motto,  —  nothing  that  can  intoxicate,  of 
course,"  he  added,  with  a  wink  at  Tom  Danforth. 

Tom  laughed,  and  seemed  to  think  this  was  a  capital 
joke. 

Altogether  we  two  innocent  country  boys  seemed  to  be 
taken  possession  of  by  the  new  occupants  of  the  room. 
Boys  have  the  phrase  "  Coming  it  over  one,"  and,  like  most 
phrases  coined  out  of  life,  it  expresses  a  real  fact.  Elliot 
Vinton  "  came  it  over  "  us  both  the  very  first  evening,  and 
settled  himself  as  lord  paramount  in  our  apartment. 

We  certainly  passed  a  very  merry  evening,  and  Elliot 
made  himself  most  entertaining,  recounting  scenes  and  ex 
ploits  of  wild  school-boy  life  in  Boston,  and  Tom  chorused 
the  laugh  always. 

To  be  sure  I  could  not  help  feeling,  sometimes,  that 
Elliot's  jokes  bore  rather  hard  on  poor  folks.  Eor  exam 
ple,  he  told,  with  great  gusto,  how  they  served  an  oyster- 
man,  one  night,  in  Boston.  In  those  days  the  oystermen 
used  to  cry  the  oysters  through  the  streets  of  an  evening. 
They  commonly  had  a  bag  of  shell  oysters  over  their 
shoulder,  and  a  pail  full  of  opened  oysters  in  their  hand, 
so  as  to  serve  out  either  on  demand  of  their  customers. 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  241 

"  This  was  the  way  we  fixed  'em/'  said  Elliot.  "  Tom 
and  a  lot  of  fellows  stood  round  a  corner  holding  the  ends 
of  a  stout  line,  with  a  strong  codfish  hook  in  it.  I  takes 
this  in  my  hand  and  walks  up  to  him  just  as  he  comes 
past  the  corner. 

"  '  Hollo,  mister/  says  I,  1 1  want  some  of  your  oysters 
there  in  that  air  pail.'  I  had  a  little  pail  in  my  hand,  as 
if  I  had  come  up  to  buy.  At  the  same  time  I  struck  the 
cod-hook  into  his  bag. 

t(  Down  came  his  bag  on  the  sidewalk,  while  he  stooped 
to  open  his  pail.  Whisk  went  the  bag  up  the  street. 

"  <  Hollo  !  what 's  that  ? '  says  he ;  and  he  started  off 
after  it.  But  away  went  the  bag  round  the  corner.  The 
minute  his  back  was  turned  I  caught  the  pail  and  was  off 
round  another  corner.  You  ought  to  have  seen  how  funny 
the  old  fellow  looked.  His  old  coat-tails  flapped,  and  he 
flew  round  and  round  like  a  cat  after  her  tail.  He  grabbed 
right  and  left  —  no  bag,  no  pail  —  one  gone  round  one  cor 
ner,  and  one  round  the  other  before  you  could  say  Jack 
Robinson.  Oh,  it  was  funny  !  " 

Now,  when  a  set  of  boys  are  eating  crackers,  and  drink 
ing  claret,  and  laughing,  and  the  laugh  once  gets  going,  it 
is  hard  to  stop  it,  and  I  laughed  over  the  story  with  the 
rest,  but  with  a  sort  of  misgiving  at  my  heart. 

I  felt  as  if  I  ought  to  say  something,  and  finally  I  cleared 
my  throat  and  said,  "  But  after  all  it  was  n't  doing  quite 
the  fair  thing,  was  it  ?  Poor  old  fellow  !  " 

"Oh,  these  oystermen  get  no  end  of  money/'  he  said, 
carelessly.  "  They  build  houses  and  own  whole  blocks. 
They  can  afford  to  give  us  boys  a  joke,  now  and  then.  Be 
sides,  I  made  it  up  to  him.  We  bought  oysters  every  night 
of  him  for  six  months." 

"  But  that  did  n't  pay  him  for  those  you  stole/'  I  said. 

"  Stole  !  We  did  n't  steal.  We  only  hooked  them,  my 
son,"  said  Elliot,  with  a  toss  of  his  curls  and  a  patronizing 


242  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

smile.  "  There  's  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between 
hooking  and  stealing,  my  boy.  Nobody  ever  calls  such 
scrapes  stealing  !  " 

Elliot  had  such  a  condescending,  knowing  air  of  explain 
ing  things  to  us,  and  then  his  whiskers  were  full  grown,  and 
he  had  a  decided  mustache,  and  sported  a  gold  watch,  with 
an  elegant  chain,  and  altogether  seemed  so  much  a  man  of 
the  world,  that  there  is  no  wonder  we  let  him  lay  down  the 
law  to  us. 

After  the  claret  came  a  roll  of  cigars,  and  he  handed  one 
all  round. 

"  I  never  smoke,"  said  I. 

"  Time  you  did,  then,"  he  said,  tilting  back  in  his  chair 
and  lighting  his  cigar  luxuriously.  "  Must  be  a  first  time 
for  everything,  my  boy." 

Jimmy  looked  up  in  an  undecided  way  to  me,  and  I 
played  with  my  cigar  carelessly,  while  Elliot  and  Tom  were 
soon  puffing  magnificently. 

"  You  '11  have  to  smoke  in  self-defense,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  Elliot,  laughing.  "  You  may  as  well  have  your  own 
smoke  as  ours." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  a  cigar,  now  and  then,  just  for  com 
pany,"  said  I,  carelessly  lighting  mine. 

Jimmy  upon  this  lit  his,  and  the  room  was  soon  blue 
with  smoke.  Now  I  had  solemnly  promised  my  mother 
not  to  smoke,  and  the  thought  of  this  promise  came  rather 
uneasily  into  my  mind,  but  I  said  to  myself,  "A  fellow 
does  n't  want  to  be  a  wet  blanket  —  so  just  for  this  once  !  " 

Pretty  soon  Jimmy  began  to  look  pale,  and  after  a  few 
uneasy  minutes  rushed  to  the  chamber-window  and  began 
vomiting. 

"  Give  him  a  stiffener,  Tom,"  said  Elliot ;  and  Tom  drew 
out  of  the  hamper  a  flask  of  brandy,  and  adroitly  mixed  a 
stiffener  of  brandy  and  water,  which  Elliot  administered 
with  a  paternal  air,  making  Jimmy  lie  down  on  the  bed. 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  243 

"  Never  mind,  my  boy,  you  're  green,"  he  said.  "  You  '11 
get  used  to  it  after  a  little.  Always  make  a  fellow  sick  at 
first.  Gracious  me,  how  sick  my  first  cigar  made  me  !  I 
think  I  was  about  your  age.  Here,  set  the  windows  open, 
and  give  him  fresh  air ;  and,  Tom,  you  and  I  '11  go  down 
and  finish  in  the  street." 

"  Oh,  you  can't  do  that,"  said  I ;  "  it's  contrary  to  the 
rules  of  the  academy,  and  you'd  be  hauled  up  at  once." 

"  Tom,  this  gets  interesting,"  said  El.  "  If  there  's  any 
thing  that  gives  a  charm  to  life,  it 's  a  fight  with  these 
Dons.  I  half  plagued  their  lives  out  in  the  Latin  School." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  Mr.  Exeter  is  a  pretty  resolute  fellow. 
It 's  a  word  and  a  blow  with  him,  and  if  fellows  don't  keep 
up  to  the  chalk  mark,  he  just  sends  'em  off." 

"  All  the  jollier,"  said  El,  "  but  that  sha'n't  hinder  my 
smoke  the  first  evening.  I  ain't  supposed  to  know  the 
rules.  To-morrow,  you  know,  I  shall  find  'em  out."  And 
so  saying,  El  and  Tom  sallied  down  into  the  little  moonlit 
street,  with  their  cigars  in  their  mouths,  walking  grandly 
up  and  down  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  Avhile  I  sat, 
crestfallen  and  self-condemned,  in  the  window,  watching 
them. 

As  they  came  into  the  broad  glare  of  the  full  moon,  they 
met  Lucy,  leading  by  the  hand  her  younger  sister.  I  re 
member  how  pretty  she  looked,  all  in  white,  with  her  head 
of  golden  curls  shining  like  a  mist  in  the  mysterious  moon 
shine.  I  felt  myself  getting  very  hot  and  red,  as  I  sat 
there  in  the  window-seat,  thinking  how  I  had  been  spending 
my  evening.  There  was  my  lesson  unlearned,  Jimmy  groan 
ing  in  bed  with  a  raging  headache,  from  the  brandy  and 
cigar,  and  I,  who  had  thought  myself  so  manly,  and  felt  so 
sure  of  my  principles,  and  had  given  him  so  much  excellent 
advice,  had  gone  down  before  the  first  touch  of  temptation ! 

The  foolish  fear  of  being  thought  green  had  upset  all  my 
good  resolutions,  and  made  me  break  all  my  promises.  I 


244  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

could  n't  help  seeing  that  the  desire  to  appear  manly  had 
led  me  to  do  the  most  sneaking  unmanly  thing  in  my  life. 
My  example  had  misled  Jimmy,  and  I  had  lost  his  respect. 
In  short,  I  could  not  help  seeing  that  that  one  evening  had 
made  El  Vinton  master  in  our  room.  For  if  a  man  or  boy 
is  going  to  hold  his  own  against  another,  he  must  begin  in 
time.  There  >s  an  old  proverb,  "  If  you  say  A,  you  must 
say  B."  If  I  had  been  going  to  keep  my  temperance  pledge 
and  my  promise  to  my  mother  about  smoking,  then  and 
there,  on  that  first  evening,  was  the  time  to  have  stood  to  it. 
The  battle  had  come  on  and  I  had  shown  the  white  feather 
the  very  first  moment. 

The  sight  of  Lucy  made  me  feel  all  this  the  more,  be 
cause  in  the  short  time  of  our  acquaintance  I  had  been 
very  confidential,  and  told  her  all  about  my  temperance 
pledge  and  my  promise  about  tobacco,  and  she  had  said 
how  much  it  increased  her  respect  for  me ;  and  Lucy's 
respect  was  worth  more  to  me  even  than  my  own.  How 
I  did  despise  myself !  How  mean  and  cowardly  I  seemed 
to  myself ! 

El  and  Tom  came  back  in  high  spirits. 

"  We  passed  a  very  nice  P.  G.,"  said  El.  "  I  wonder 
who  she  is.'7 

"  Her  curls  are  stunning,"  said  Tom. 

"  That  was  Miss  Lucy  Sewell  you  passed,"  said  I.  "  She 
is  the  minister's  daughter." 

"  She  '11  do,  Tom,"  said  El.  "  If  I  can  find  a  decent 
team  in  this  place,  I'll  trot  her  out  some  time  this  week." 

The  cup  of  my  misery  was  full. 


Ill 

EL  VINTON  proved  to  be  a  good  scholar.  The  Boston 
Latin  School  generally  turned  out  such,  and  El  stood  high, 
even  there. 

In  truth,  he  was  one  of  those  bright,  quick  fellows  for 
whom  the  ordinary  lessons  of  school  are  not  employment 
enough  —  who  can  keep  at  the  head  of  their  classes  with 
but  little  outlay  of  time  and  thought  —  and  so  he  soon 
took  a  high  stand  in  his  classes,  with  very  little  study.  In 
fact,  he  did  not  scruple,  in  our  room,  to  assume  the  airs  of 
a  gentleman  of  elegant  leisure.  He  had  a  stock  of  novels, 
over  which  he  lounged  easily,  while  Jimmy  and  I  were 
digging  at  our  lessons  with  care-worn  faces  —  and  he  con 
trived  to  do  pretty  much  what  he  chose,  spite  of  monitors, 
rules,  and  teachers. 

He  was  a  general  favorite  with  the  boys,  and  more  so 
with  the  girls,  who  seemed  to  regard  him  as  a  sort  of 
young  nobleman  in  disguise. 

There  was,  however,  one  exception.  Lucy  Sewell  had 
a  clear,  cool,  distant  way  of  looking  at  him  out  of  her  blue 
eyes,  that  was  quite  surprising  to  him. 

"  Hang  that  girl !  "  he  said,  one  day,  as  he  stood  at  his 
glass ;  "  she  don't  seem  to  appreciate  me.  Well,  I  must 
give  her  a  drive,  and  have  a  little  private  conversation 
with  her." 

And  El  posted  off  to  the  only  livery  stable  in  town  to 
get  up  what  he  called  a  decent  turnout.  This  was  two  or 
three  days  after  the  evening  I  have  described. 

I  can't  tell  anybody  what  a  wretched,  subjugated,  kept- 


246  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

down  kind  of  life  I  was  leading.  The  fear  of  El  Vinton's 
ridicule,  and  a  sort  of  anxious  sense  of  what  he  would  think 
of  what  I  said  and  did,  embarrassed  me  day  and  night. 

Then  I  was  uncomfortable  with  Lucy,  because  I  felt  as 
if  I  had  forfeited  all  pretensions  to  her  respect  j  and  when 
with  her  I  was  constantly  wondering  what  she  would  think 
of  me,  if  she  knew  just  how  miserably  weak  I  had  been. 

Added  to  all  this,  I  was  wretched  to  think  El  Vinton 
was  going  to  take  her  to  ride.  It  seemed  so  manly  and 
grand  to  have  all  the  money  one  wanted,  and  be  able  to  go 
to  livery-stables  and  order  turnouts,  and  here  was  I  with 
not  a  nine-pence  for  spending-money  !  I  thought  I  had 
money  enough  the  two  weeks  before  El  came,  but  now 
things  looked  quite  changed  to  my  view.  A  week  ago,  to 
escort  Lucy  to  the  Wednesday  evening  lecture  seemed  to 
be  all  I  could  ask,  but  now  I  saw  a  wider  sphere  of  desire 
opening  before  me  ;  and  when  El  Vinton  came  driving  up 
street  that  afternoon,  bowing,  and  kissing  his  hand  to  the 
girls  as  he  passed,  in  his  showy  buggy,  with  a  fast  horse,  I 
felt  bitter  repiniiigs. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  as  he  came  in  that  evening,  "  I  've 
got  a  decentish  affair,  considering  the  place,  and  now  I 
shall  go  and  engage  my  girl  for  to-morrow."  So,  after  an 
elaborate  arrangement  of  necktie,  he  started  over  to  the 
minister's  to  make  his  call. 

He  was  gone  about  half  an  hour,  and  then  came  back  in 
a  very  ill  humor. 

"  What  time  are  you  going  to-morrow  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  She  won't  go  at  all,"  said  El. 

"  What  >a  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  says  her  father  don't  approve  of  her  riding 
out  with  young  gentlemen." 

"  What  an  old  tyrant !  "  said  Tom.  "  I  say,  El,  she 
might  meet  you  accidentally,  and  he  know  nothing  about 
it." 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  247 

"Well,  that's  just  what  I  proposed  to  her/'  said  El. 
"  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her  !  Why,  the  girl  actually 
seemed  to  take  it  as  an  insult !  She  stood  up  so  straight, 
that  really  I  thought  her  feet  were  going  off  the  carpet, 
and  said  she  was  astonished  that  I  should  propose  such  a 
thing.  She 's  a  real  prig,  that  girl  is ;  a  regular  stiff, 
green-spectacled  school-ma'am." 

"  That  sounds  like  sour  grapes,"  said  I,  immensely  de 
lighted  with  the  result  of  the  transaction,  and  thinking 
more  of  Lucy  than  ever. 

"  Well,"  said  El,  shaking  his  shoulders,  "  I  '11  go  and 
ask  one  of  those  Seymour  girls.  One  of  them  shook  her 
handkerchief  out  of  the  window  at  me  when  I  drove  by 
this  afternoon.  The  loss  will  be  her  own  —  I  'm  sure  / 
don't  care.  If  she  don't  want  to  ride,  I  don't  know  why 
I  should  want  to  take  her." 

It  is  the  way  of  our  selfish  sex,  I  suppose,  but  it  is  a 
fact,  nevertheless,  that  nothing  makes  a  girl's  good  opinion 
more  precious  in  our  eyes,  than  to  hear  that  she  has  been 
snubbing  some  other  fellow.  That  which  anybody  may 
have,  we  set  small  value  on,  but  the  girl  who  makes  dis 
tinctions,  if  she  happens  to  be  gracious  to  us,  is  forthwith  a 
peg  higher  in  our  esteem.  I  had  supposed,  of  course,  that 
El  Vinton's  dashing  air,  and  his  many  advantages  of  person, 
wealth,  and  position,  would  carry  all  before  them,  and  I 
must  say  I  was  surprised  at  his  receiving  this  repulse  from 
Lucy. 

It  was  Wednesday  evening,  and  I  called  to  ask  her  to  go 
to  the  lecture.  Yes,  she  would  go  —  and  down  she  came 
in  the  distracting  little  white  bonnet,  with  the  wreath  of 
sweet  peas  upon  it,  and  we  walked  off  to  lecture  in  the 
most  edifying  manner.  I  expatiated  on  our  new  room 
mate,  and  tried  to  draw  out  Lucy's  opinion  of  him. 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,  Mr.  Somers,  I  do  not  like  Mr. 
Vinton,"  she  said. 


248  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

"  How  charming  of  her  !  "  was  the  immediate  language  of 
my  heart  j  but  I  said,  "  Why,  he  is  just  the  person  I  sup 
posed  you  would  be  quite  carried  away  with." 

"  Then  you  know  very  little  of  me  or  my  taste,'7  said 
Lucy.  "  I  have  heard  a  good  deal  of  this  El  Yinton,  and 
think  it  is  rather  a  misfortune  that  he  has  been  sent  to  our 
academy.  He  is  a  rich,  fast,  drinking,  smoking  boy,  just 
the  one  to  lead  young  boys  astray." 

"  He  7s  a  real  jolly  fellow/7  said  I,  feeling  in  honor 
bound  to  say  something. 

"  I  dare  say  he  is,"  she  said,  "  but  I  think  he  is  a  dan 
gerous  companion.  Then  that  little  Jimmy  Seaforth,  in 
your  room  !  He  is  a  delicate  boy,  and  his  mother  is  con 
stantly  anxious  about  him.  She  told  father  all  about  it. 
His  father  died  a  drunkard,  and  his  mother  is  very  anxious 
lest  he  should  form  any  bad  habits.  So  she  sent  him  here 
because  Mr.  Exeter  is  so  particular  with  his  boys,  to  keep 
dangerous  influences  out  of  their  way.  If  it  were  not  that 
you  were  in  the  same  room  with  him  I  should  feel  troubled 
about  Jimmy,  but  you  will  keep  him  straight,  I  know.77 

This  conversation  took  place  as  we  were  walking  home 
from  lecture.  This  commendation  from  Lucy  fell  like  a 
pound  of  lead  on  my  heart.  I  felt  like  a  miserable,  degraded 
sneak,  as  I  walked  by  her  side  in  silence.  I  was  appalled, 
too,  by  what  she  told  me  of  Jimmy,  for  during  the  fortnight 
following  El  Vinton7s  arrival  Jimmy  had  seemed  quite 
enkindled  with  the  ambition  to  learn  to  smoke,  and  was  in 
the  habit  of  keeping  off  the  qualmish  feelings  thus  brought 
on  by  the  aforementioned  stiffeners  of  brandy  and  water. 

The  conviction  that  I  had  helped  to  lead  him  astray,  by 
not  standing  my  ground  that  first  night,  now  became  un 
pleasantly  strong  in  my  mind.  What  a  fool  I  had  been  ! 
Why  did  I  not  at  first  declare  my  temperance  principles, 
and  my  promise  to  my  mother.  A  little  firmness  then 
might  have  cost  me  an  effort,  but  it  would  have  made  my 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  249 

after-way  easy.  Now  I  was  every  day  miserably  conscious 
of  being  under  a  sort  of  slavery.  I  did  not  smoke  very 
often.  I  excused  myself,  when  invited,  on  various  pleas. 
It  did  not  agree  with  me.  It  confused  my  head.  It  hurt 
my  eyes,  and  so  on.  In  the  same  manner  I  sometimes  took 
a  sip  of  El's  wine,  but  generally  apologized  for  declining 
it. 

All  this  did  no  good.  It  was  no  testimony  to  principle, 
one  way  nor  the  other.  But  what  frightened  me  to  think 
of  was  that  Jimmy  seemed  to  be  developing  a  real  taste, 
both  for  tobacco  and  for  drink.  How  horrid,  I  thought,  if 
there  should  be  a  serpent  lying  coiled  up  at  the  bottom  of 
the  poor  boy's  heart,  which  these  things  should  rouse  and 
strengthen,  till  it  should  strangle  him ! 

All  this  dimly  came  before  my  mind  as  I  walked  silently 
by  Lucy's  side,  but  I  had  not  courage  to  tell  her  the  whole 
story.  I  thought  once  or  twice  I  would  do  it ;  but  it  is 
very  hard  when  you  see  that  people  evidently  have  a  very 
high  esteem  for  you,  to  begin  deliberately  to  pull  yourself 
down  in  their  eyes.  I  think  Lucy  must  have  wondered 
what  made  me  so  absent  and  silent,  for  in  the  conflict  of 
my  mind  I  often  quite  forgot  to  talk. 

"  What  in  the  world  has  come  over  you  ?  "  said  Lucy  to 
me,  finally,  after  I  had  been  standing  looking  gloomily  over 
the  gate  after  she  had  passed  through  it  that  night,  and 
turned,  as  her  custom  was,  for  a  little  farewell  chat  in  the 
moonlight.  "  I  was  thinking  of  Jimmy,"  said  I. 

"  I  knew  you  would  feel  it,"  she  said,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  I  know  Jimmy's  mother,  and  last  week  I  wrote  her  how 
fortunate  it  was  that  he  had  you  for  a  room-mate." 

I  could  have  kicked  myself,  in  the  utterness  of  my  self- 
contempt,  and  I  abruptly  bade  Lucy  good-evening,  and 
turned  away. 


IV 

THINGS  went  on  in  this  way  for  some  weeks.  Boys,  and 
men,  too,  sometimes,  by  a  single  step,  and  that  step  taken 
in  a  sudden  hurry  of  inconsideration,  get  into  a  net-work  of 
false  positions,  in  which  they  are  very  uneasy  and  unhappy, 
but  live  along,  from  day  to  day,  seeing  no  way  out. 

This  was  my  ease.  I  was  in  false  relations  with  Lucy, 
feeling  that  she  thought  altogether  too  well  of  me,  but  did 
not  have  the  courage  to  undeceive  her. 

I  was  in  false  relations  with  Jimmy,  having  assumed  the 
part  of  a  true  friend  to  him,  and  now  wanting  the  steadi 
ness  and  firmness  necessary  to  save  him  from  the  danger 
ous  courses  into  which  he  was  entering. 

El  Vinton's  whirl  of  animal  spirits,  his  wit  and  fun,  kept 
a  sort  of  vortex  round  him,  into  which  it  appeared  impos 
sible  to  get  a  serious  consideration.  The  slightest  attempt 
in  me  to  say  a  word  of  the  kind  was  shouted  down  by  the 
general  laugh  of  the  room. 

My  conscience  was  so  stirred  by  what  Lucy  had  said  to 
me,  that  I  tried,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned  personally,  to 
keep  out  of  the  smoking,  and  drinking,  and  violation  of 
school  rules  that  went  on  in  our  room,  and  for  that  I  was 
voted  a  wet  blanket,  a  muff,  and  sometimes  El  would  ask 
me  if  I  intended  to  report  them  to  Mr.  Exeter,  or  the  par 
son. 

The  thing  came  to  a  crisis  in  an  attack  on  the  minister's 
watermelon  patch,  as  I  am  about  to  relate. 

For  two  or  three  days  El  Vinton  and  Tom  and  Jimmy 
had  seemed  to  have  some  plan  on  foot  from  which  I  was 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  251 

excluded.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  chaffing  and  laughing 
among  them,  and  passing  of  catch-words  from  one  to 
another ;  and  it  was  evident  that  something  was  going  on 
which  was  not  to  be  communicated  to  me. 

One  evening,  just  at  twilight,  El  proposed  that  we  should 
all  go  in  swimming  together  in  a  neighboring  pond.  The 
evening  was  delightful  —  it  had  been  a  hot  August  day  — 
the  full  moon  was  just  rising,  and  would  light  our  way 
home.  El  Vinton  put  his  arm  in  mine,  and  made  himself 
unusually  gracious  and  agreeable.  In  fact,  he  usually  did 
that,  and  if  he  had  not  possessed  that  easy,  jolly  kind  of 
way,  I  think  I  should  not  have  borne  as  I  did  the  sort  of 
dictation  he  exercised  over  us  all. 

He  rattled,  and  chattered,  and  talked  all  the  way  to  the 
pond,  and  we  had  a  glorious  swim.  By  the  time  we  started 
to  return  home,  it  was  broad,  clear  moonlight,  clear  enough 
to  see  to  read  by. 

We  came  along  cross-lots,  swishing  through  the  high, 
dewy  meadow-grass,  and  I  gathered,  as  I  went,  handfuls  of 
bright,  spicy  wild  roses  and  golden  lilies,  as  a  bouquet  for 
Lucy.  Suddenly  we  came  to  the  minister's  watermelon 
patch,  and  I  was  going  to  propose  that  we  should  make  a 
circuit  round  it,  to  avoid  tramping  the  vines,  when  El  Yin- 
ton,  putting  one  hand  on  the  top  rail,  swung  himself  over, 
saying, — 

"  Now  for  it,  boys  !     Here  's  a  dessert  for  us  ! " 

The  boys  followed  him,  and  forthwith  began,  in  the 
bright  moonlight,  sounding  the  melons. 

"  Take  care,  fellows  !  "  said  El.  "  I  'm  the  judge  of  ripe 
ness.  Don't  cut  till  I  give  verdict." 

"  Boys,"  said  I,  "  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  '11  see  if  you  live  long  enough,"  said  El,  coolly 
cutting  off  one  or  two  fine  melons,  and  taking  them  to  a 
retired  spot  under  a  large  tree.  "  This  way,  Tom,  with  that 
one.  Jimmy,  don't  you  cut  any  ;  let  me  cut  them." 


252  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

"But,"  said  I,  "  boys,  this  is  too  bad.  This  is  Mr.  Sew- 
ell's  patch  —  the  minister.'7 

"All  the  better,"  said  EL  "  Just  as  if  we  did  n't  know 
that.  I  would  n't  have  taken  Deacon  Sharpe's,  for  I  know 
they  would  give  us  a  stomach-ache ;  but  Mr.  Se well's  are 
your  real  Christian  melons  —  won't  hurt  anybody." 

The  boys  all  laughed  as  they  sat  down  under  the  tree, 
and  El  began  cutting  up  a  great,  ripe,  red  melon.  I  stood 
irresolute. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  run  and  tell  of  us,"  said  El. 

"  I  think  it 's  a  shame  for  you  to  say  that,  El  Vinton," 
said  I.  "  You  know  it 's  unjust." 

"  Well,  so  't  is,"  he  said,  with  a  frank,  dashing  air.  "  I 
know,  Bill,  that  you  are  as  good-hearted  a  fellow  as 
breathes,  and  any  one  that  says  you  are  a  sneak  or  a  spy, 
1 '11  fight  him.  So  sit  down  with  us." 

"  But  seriously,"  said  I,  sitting  down,  "  I  must  expostu 
late." 

"  Well,  wet  your  whistle  first, "said  El,  cutting  a  great 
fresh  piece,  and  holding  it  up  to  my  mouth. 

Now,  if  you  imagine  a  thirsty  boy,  on  a  hot  August 
night,  with  a  cool,  trickling  slice  of  watermelon  held  right 
to  his  lips,  you  will,  perhaps,  see  how  it  was  that  I  ate  my 
slice  of  watermelon  before  I  was  well  aware  what  I  did. 

"  Goes  down  pretty  well,  don't  it  ?  "  said  El,  stroking 
my  back.  "  You  see  there  's  nothing  like  your  real  ortho 
dox,  pious  melons.  Why,  I  don't  doubt  that  there  's  grace 
grown  into  these  melons  that  will  set  us  a  long  way  on  in 
saintship." 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  this  sally,  and  I  laughed, 
too,  but  still  said,  in  an  uneasy  voice, — 

"  After  all,  El,  it  is  n't  handsome  to  take  the  minister's 
melons  in  this  way." 

"  Bless  you  !  "  said  El,  "  it  is  n't  the  melons  we  care  for, 
it  ?s  the  fun.  Let 's  see.  These  melons  are  worth,  say 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  253 

half  a  dollar  apiece  ;  that  's  a  liberal  estimate.  Well,  sup 
pose  we  eat  six  of  them  ;  that 's  three  dollars  !  What 's 
three  dollars  ? "  he  said,  with  a  magnificent  slap  of  his 
pocket.  "  Now  I,  for  one,  am  ready  to  plank  down  five 
dollars,  this  minute,  as  my  part  of  a  subscription  to  get  Sew- 
ell  a  concordance,  or  a  cyclopaedia,  or  set  of  Shakespeare, 
or  any  such  thing  as  folks  give  to  ministers  ;  but  I  want 
my  fun  out  of  him,  you  see.  I  want  my  melons  in  this 
pastoral  way,  just  when  I  feel  like  eating  'em, —  and 
enough  of  them,  —  and  so  here  goes  a  roarer,"  giving  a 
smart  slash  of  his  knife  across  the  third  melon. 

And  so,  on  and  on  we  went,  never  knowing  that  Abner 
Stearns,  the  parson's  hired  man,  had  his  eye  at  a  hole  in 
the  shrubbery,  and  was  taking  an  exact  account  of  us.  Long 
before  we  left  the  fields,  Abner  had  made  his  way  across  the 
lots,  and  detailed  to  Mr.  Sewell  the  whole  that  he  had  seen 
and  heard. 

"  There  's  one  on  'em,  —  that  are  Bill  Somers,  —  he 
seemed  rather  to  go  agin  it,  but  they  would  n't  hear  to  it, 
and  kind  o'  roped  him  in  among  'em,"  said  Abner.  "  And 
now,  Mr.  Sewell,  if  you  say  so,  I  can  jest  go  up  with  you 
to  Mr.  Exeter,  with  this  ere  story,  'cause  I  got  a  good  look 
at  every  one  on  'em,  and  knows  exactly  who  they  be,  and  I 
can  testify  on  'em  slick  as  a  whistle.  That  air  Yinton  boy, 
from  Boston,  he 's  the  head  o'  the  hull.  I  haint  never  had 
no  great  opinion  o'  him.  He 's  up  to  every  kind  o'  shine, 
and  jest  the  one  to  rope  in  other  boys." 

"  Well,  Abner,"  said  Mr.  Sewell,  "  I  have  my  own  plan 
about  this  affair,  and  you  must  promise  me  not  to  say  a 
single  word  about  it  to  any  human  being,  not  even  to  your 
wife." 

"That's  pretty  well  put  in,  too,"  said  Abner,  "for  if  I 
told  Cinthy,  she  'd  want  to  tell  Dolly  Ann,  and  Dolly  Ann, 
she  'd  want  to  tell  Dolly,  and  't  would  be  all  over  town  afore 
night." 


254  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

"  Precisely  so,"  said  the  minister,  "  but  my  plan  requires 
absolute  silence.  I  can't  manage  without." 

"  Go  ahead,  Parson  Sewell,"  said  Abner,  "  I  '11  be  dumb 
as  a  catfish,"  and  Abner  went  home,  wondering  what  the 
minister's  plan  was. 

"  Lucy,"  said  Mr.  Sewell,  coming  out  of  his  study,  "  I 
think  we  had  four  nice,  ripe  melons  put  down  cellar  this 
morning,  did  n't  we  ?  " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  Well,  I  'm  going  to  invite  the  boys  over  to  the  oppo 
site  house  to  a  little  melon  supper.  I'll  bring  up  the 
melons,  and  you  set  out  a  table,  and  I  '11  go  over  and  invite 
them." 

Now,  as  Lucy  had  particularly  friendly  feelings  towards, 
at  least,  one  boy  in  the  lot,  she  set  about  her  hospitality 
with  alacrity. 

We  were  coming  up  the  street  in  the  full,  broad  moon 
light. 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  El,  "  I  'm  about  as  full  as  I  can  wag. 
It's  wonderful  how  watermelons  can  fill  a  fellow  up.  I  feel 
as  I  used  to  after  a  Thanksgiving  dinner." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Tom.  "  I  could  n't  really  get  down 
another  morsel." 

At  this  moment,  as  we  turned  the  corner  to  our  boarding- 
house,  Mr.  Sewell  stood  out  plain  before  us,  in  the  moon 
light. 

"  Good  -evening,  young  gentlemen,"  he  said,  in  a  bland, 
polite  tone.  "I've  been  looking  for  you." 

Our  hearts  all  thumped,  I  fancy,  a  little  quicker  than  be 
fore,  but  Mr.  Sewell  was  so  calm  and  polite,  it  could  not  be 
that  he  suspected  where  we  had  been. 

"I've  been  looking  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Sewell,  "just  to 
ask  you  to  step  in  a  few  moments  and  eat  watermelons  with 
us.  We  have  a  splendid  lot  of  nice,  ripe  watermelons,  and 
I  thought  you  could  help  us  to  put  some  of  them  away." 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  255 

I  saw  El  give  Tom  Danforth  a  look  of  despair  ;  but  of 
course  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  seem  highly  de 
lighted  and  honored,  and  we  followed  Mr.  Sewell  into  the 
house  and  to  a  table  piled  with  ripe  melons,  for  which, 
wearied  and  cloyed  as  we  were,  we  had  to  feign  a  boy's  fresh 
appetite. 

Mr.  Sewell  was  pressing.  He  cut  and  carved  without 
mercy  —  would  not  hear  an  apology,  piled  up  our  plates 
with  new  slices  before  we  had  half  demolished  the  old  ones, 
while  we  munched  away  with  the  courage  of  despair. 

Lucy  was  there,  doing  her  part  of  the  hospitality  in  the 
prettiest  and  most  graceful  manner  possible. 

I  had  reasons  of  my  own  why  the  feast  seemed  almost  to 
choke  me.  I  had  eaten  very  little  of  the  melons  in  the 
lot,  but  the  sense  of  the  meanness  of  my  conduct  oppressed 
me.  I  could  not  bear  to  meet  Lucy's  eyes  —  and  Mr. 
Sewell's  politeness  was  dreadful  to  me.  I  rather  fancy  that 
there  never  was  a  set  of  boys  who  groaned  more  in  spirit 
over  a  delicious  banquet  than  we  over  those  melons.  It 
was  in  vain  we  made  excuses  ;  feigned  modesty,  delicacy ; 
said,  "  No,  I  thank  you/7  and  so  on.  The  hospitality  was 
so  pressing,  and  our  guilty  consciences  made  us  so  afraid  of 
being  suspected,  that  we  nearly  killed  ourselves  in  the 
effort.  But  at  last  we  had  to  stop  short  of  what  was  pro 
vided  for  us. 

There  was  a  sort  of  subdued  twinkle  in  Mr.  Sewell's  eye, 
as  he  bade  us  good-night,  that  struck  me  singularly.  It 
was  like  a  sudden  flash  of  lightning  on  a  dark  night.  I 
felt  perfectly  sure  that  somehow  he  knew  all  about  us. 
I  felt  my  cheeks  flame  up  to  my  hair,  and  my  misery  was 
at  its  climax. 

When  we  stumbled  home  the  boys  were  alternately  laugh 
ing  and  groaning,  and  declaring  that  the  parson  had  caught 
them ;  but  I  stumbled  into  bed,  blind  and  despairing.  Oh, 
the  misery  of  utter  shame  and  self-contempt !  I  really 


256  THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS 

wished  I  had  never  been  born ;  I  wished  I  had  never  come 
to  Highland  Academy ;  never  known  Lucy  or  Mr.  Sewell ; 
wished  that  El  Vinton  had  kept  a  thousand  miles  away  ; 
and,  finally,  it  occurred  to  me  to  wish  the  right  wish  which 
lay  at  the  bottom  of  all,  —  that  I  had  had  sense  and  man 
liness  enough,  weeks  ago,  to  begin  with  my  room-mates  as 
I  knew  I  ought  to  go  on,  and  not  get  into  the  miserable 
tangle  which  had  ended  in  this  disgrace  ! 

I  did  not  sleep  a  wink  that  night,  and  next  morning, 
at  five  o'clock,  I  was  up,  and  seeing  Mr.  Sewell  out  in  his 
garden,  I  resolved  to  go  to  him  and  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it. 

I  went  and  told  him  I  wanted  to  see  him  alone,  and  went 
with  him  into  his  study  and  told  him  what  a  miserable, 
silly  fool  I  had  been  for  the  few  weeks  past. 

"  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Sewell,  because  I  won't  play  the  hypo 
crite  any  longer,"  I  said.  "  Lucy  thinks  a  great  deal  too 
well  of  me ;  and  you  have  been  a  great  deal  too  kind  to 
me  ;  and  I  thought  I  might  as  well  let  you  see  just  how 
mistaken  you  had  been  in  me,  and  what  a  mean,  miserable 
humbug  I  am." 

"  Oh  no,  not  quite  a  humbug,"  said  Mr.  Sewell,  smiling. 
"  Courage,  my  boy.  You  7ve  made  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and 
now  you  've  got  down  to  firm  ground,  I  think.  It 's  just 
as  well  to  get  through  this  kind  of  experience  while  you 
are  a  boy,  if  you  are  one  of  those  that  can  learn  anything 
by  experience." 

"  But  now  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  said  I.  "I  am 
wrong  all  round ;  and  seem  to  have  lost  the  power  of  doing 
right." 

"  Well,  you  have  made  it  pretty  hard  to  do  right,"  he 
said  ;  "  but  if  you  've  pluck  enough  now,  to  face  about,  and 
to  tell  your  room-mates  just  what  you  have  told  me,  — 
that  you  have  been  going  wrong,  but  that  you  are  deter 
mined  now  to  do  right,  and  having  told  them  so,  if  you 


THE  MINISTER'S  WATERMELONS  257 

will  keep  to  it  with  steadiness  for  a  week  or  two,  you  may 
get  back  the  ground  that  you  never  ought  to  have  lost  in 
the  first  place.  It 's  tremendously  hard  to  face  about  when 
you  have  been  yielding,  but  it  can  be  done." 

"  It  shall  be  done/7  said  I ;  and  I  took  my  hat  up  and 
walked  over  to  our  room,  and  got  the  boys  together  and 
made  my  speech  to  them.  I  blamed  nobody  but  myself. 
I  told  them  I  had  acted  like  a  sneak  ;  and  that  I  did  n't 
wonder  they  had  no  respect  for  me,  but  I  told  them  I  meant 
to  be  done  acting  like  a  sneak,  and  be  a  man;  that  I 
should,  for  the  future,  keep  from  drinking  and  smoking, 
and  breaking  school  rules,  and  that  if  they  would  join  me, 
well  and  good,  but  if  they  didn't,  it  should  make  no 
difference. 

Mr.  Sewell  that  same  day  sent  for  El  Vinton  and  Jimmy, 
and  had  a  talk  with  them,  and  matters  in  our  room  began 
to  wear  quite  another  appearance. 

"  I  tell  you,  fellows,"  said  El  Vinton,  "  it  was  rather 
bully  of  the  parson  not  to  blow  on  us.  Exeter  would  have 
turned  us  out  of  school  in  less  than  no  time.  And  Sewell 
gave  me  some  precious  good  counsel,"  he  added  ;  "  and  on 
the  whole,  I  don't  know  but  I  '11  make  an  experiment  of 
the  ways  of  virtue." 

I  had  a  penitential  confession  to  make  to  Lucy,  but  she 
took  it  like  an  angel.  The  fact  was,  she  seemed  determined 
to  make  the  best  of  me  —  a  course  in  which  she  has  per 
severed  ever  since. 

Mrs.  William  Somers  having  just  looked  over  this  manu 
script,  is  of  opinion  that  I  have  said  too  much  about  Lucy  ; 
but  I  am  not. 

The  moral  of  my  tale  I  leave  every  boy  to  make  out  for 
himself. 


A  DOG'S  MISSION 
CHAPTER  I 

THE  OLD  HOUSE  AND  THE  OLD  WOMAN 

"  THE  old  house  "  of  the  city  of  Hindford  stood  upon  a 
fashionable  avenue,  with  city  pavements  in  front  and  ele 
gant  brick  mansions  on  either  side. 

It  was  a  sort  of  ancient  phenomenon,  standing  there 
amid  smart  modern  houses,  on  a  gay  and  bustling  street; 
for  it  was  an  old  brown  wooden  farm-house,  of  the  kind  that 
our  ancestors  used  to  build  in  days  of  primitive  simplicity 
a  hundred  years  ago.  It  was  a  two-story  house  in  front, 
but  the  long  roof  sloped  down  behind,  till  a  child  might 
easily  jump  from  it  on  to  the  ground. 

It  had  never  been  painted  ;  its  shingles  were  here  and 
there  green  with  patches  of  moss.  Certain  enterprising 
shrubs  had  seeded  themselves  in  the  eave-troughs,  and 
formed  a  fantastic  nodding  fringe  along  the  edges,  that 
made  the  old  house  look  as  queer  as  antiquated  nodding 
finery  makes  an  old  face. 

The  clapboards  here  and  there  were  curled  with  age  and 
starting  from  the  timbers  ;  the  lintel  of  the  door  had  sunk 
so  that  the  door-posts  stood  awry ;  the  door-steps  were 
broken  and  sunken  like  old  grave-stones,  and  green  with 
dank  clinging  moss. 

Of  course  there  were  in  front,  as  must  be  about  every  old 
New  England  house,  the  inseparable  lilac  trees ;  but  these 
had  grown  to  weird  and  preternatural  proportions,  looking 


THE   OLD   HOUSE   AND   THE   OLD   WOMAN  259 

into  the  chamber  windows,  and  even  here  and  there  brush 
ing  the  herbage  of  the  eave-troughs.  Their  stems  below 
were  gnarled  and  wreathed,  and  covered  with  bright  yellow 
lichen,  making  their  whole  air  as  quaint  and  witch-like  as 
the  rest  of  the  surroundings. 

A  narrow  strip  of  front  door-yard  was  inclosed  by  a  de 
moralized  old  picket-fence  ;  the  gate  swung  unevenly  on  its 
hinges,  and  like  everything  else  about  the  ancient  dwelling, 
looked  forlorn  and  dreary. 

The  house,  as  we  have  said,  stood  on  one  of  the  fine  driv 
ing  avenues  of  Hindford,  and  elegant  carriages  and  prancing 
horses  went  by  it  every  day ;  and  everybody  said,  — 

"  What  a  queer  old  witch-like  house  !  How  strange 
that  it  should  be  on  this  street !  Who  lives  there  ?  " 

The  answer  was,  "  Oh,  that  ?s  the  old  Avery  place.  It 
can't  be  sold  till  old  Miss  Zarviah  Avery  dies ;  she  has  the 
life-right,  and  she  won't  live  anywhere  else." 

In  fact  this  old  Avery  house  was  the  decaying  relic  of  a 
farm  that  had  once  lain  quite  out  in  the  country  near  the 
town  of  Hindford,  but  the  city  had  grown  and  traveled 
and  thrown  out  its  long  arms  here  and  there,  and  drawn 
into  its  embrace  suburb  after  suburb,  cutting  streets  and 
avenues  through  what  was  once  farm  and  woodland,  and  so 
this  old  brown  farm-house  was  left  a  stranded  wreck  of  the 
old  village  life,  standing  by  itself,  and  seeming  to  frown 
with  a  sullen  amazement  on  a  street  of  modern  fine  houses. 

Miss  Zarviah  Avery  was  a  human  wreck  like  the  house. 
Her  village  cronies  had  sold  out,  or  moved  off,  or  died ; 
her  family,  all  but  one  brother,  were  dead ;  nobody  came 
to  see  her,  and  she  visited  nobody. 

She  was  punctual  in  her  seat  in  the  neighboring  church 
every  Sunday,  and  sat  always  conspicuously  on  the  front 
seat  in  the  weekly  prayer-meeting,  where  her  phenomenal 
bonnets,  her  old-fashioned  dress,  and  high,  shaking  voice, 
as  she  intoned  the  hymns,  moved  the  mirth  of  that  younger 


260  A   DOG'S   MISSION 

generation,  who  think  all   the  world   is  a  show  for  their 
amusement. 

She  also  was  a  punctual  though  silent  attendant  of  the 
weekly  female  prayer-meeting.  It  was  said  Miss  Zarviah 
never  had  uttered  her  voice  among  the  sisters  but  once, 
when,  in  a  faded  old  green  calash  and  a  shrunken  washed- 
out  merino  shawl,  she  uttered  an  emphatic  testimony  against 
the  vanity  of  dress  and  the  temptations  to  worldliness  in 
this  regard. 

The  old  inhabitants  of  Hindford  said  that  Miss  Zarviah 
came  of  a  very  respectable  family.  Her  father,  Squire 
Avery,  was  a  deacon  in  the  church,  selectman  in  the  vil 
lage,  and  a  thriving,  well-to-do  farmer,  but  the  family  had 
dropped  away  one  by  one,  and  she  was  left,  like  the  last 
fluttering  leaf  of  the  gaunt  catalpa  in  her  door-yard,  deso 
late  and  without  a  kindred  leaf  to  speak  to. 

When  both  parents  died  Miss  Zarviah  was  left  guardian 
of  a  younger  brother  about  ten  years  of  age,  who  with  her 
self  was  joint  heir  to  the  estate.  Now  Miss  Zarviah  loved 
her  brother  with  all  her  heart,  but,  unluckily,  she  felt  it  her 
duty  to  show  her  love  in  ways  that  make  a  boy  specially 
uncomfortable. 

She  was  always  checking  and  reproving  him,  and  setting 
his  sins  in  order  before  him.  These  were  many.  He  came 
in  without  wiping  his  shoes  ;  he  hung  his  hat  on  the  wrong 
nail,  or  did  n't  hang  it  anywhere ;  he  slopped  water  when 
he  went  to  help  himself  to  it ;  he  whistled  ;  he  drummed  ; 
he  brought  home  and  domesticated  a  puppy  who  was  seven 
fold  more  mischievous  than  he  was. 

He  was  always  taming  rabbits  and  squirrels  and  birds, 
who  all  made  litter  and  dirt.  Above  all,  he  whittled  from 
morning  till  night  everywhere. 

His  clothes  were  in  a  chronic  state  of  dilapidation,  —  hat, 
trousers,  stockings,  shoes,  all  giving  out  before  his  endless 
activity. 


THE   OLD   HOUSE   AND   THE   OLD  WOMAN  261 

Poor  Miss  Zarviah  was  in  despair,  and  told  him  so  in 
varied  phrases  almost  every  hour  of  the  twenty-four  till  he 
began  to  have  an  uneasy  sense  of  being  a  sinner  all  the 
time,  simply  for  being  a  boy.  He  was  secretly  of  the  opin 
ion  that  his  sister  hated  him,  —  a  point  where  he  did  her 
the  greatest  injustice. 

When  he  was  fourteen  years  old  he  fell  out  of  a  boat  in 
one  of  his  fishing  expeditions,  wet  himself  to  the  skin,  and 
had  in  consequence  one  of  those  good  old-fashioned  "  runs  " 
of  fever,  that  used  to  be  the  support  of  village  doctors,  and 
Miss  Zarviah  nursed  him  with  unfailing  care  and  tenderness, 
and  used  to  rehearse  to  her  friends  how  for  ten  days  and 
nights  she  never  had  her  clothes  off,  nor  got  a  regular  night's 
rest. 

So  her  boy  was  nursed  back  from  the  very  borders  of  the 
grave,  but  as  soon  as  he  was  up  and  well,  he  began  again  to 
be  a  sinner,  and  Miss  Zarviah  to  tell  him  so. 

There  is  an  age  when  the  waves  of  manhood  pour  in  on 
the  boy  like  the  tides  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy.  He  does  not 
know  himself  what  to  do  with  himself,  and  nobody  else 
knows,  either  ;  and  it  is  exactly  at  this  point  that  many  a 
fine  fellow  has  been  ruined  for  want  of  faith  and  patience 
and  hope  in  those  who  have  the  care  of  him. 

When  Eben  Avery  was  seventeen,  he  flung  away  from 
the  homestead  and  his  sister  at  the  end  of  a  bitter  discus 
sion,  in  which  many  sharp  and  true  things  had  been  said  on 
both  sides,  and  away  he  went  to  California,  seeking  his 
fortune. 

He  never  wrote.  He  had  committed  the  oversight  of  his 
share  of  the  property  to  a  faithful  old  lawyer,  a  friend  of 
his  father,  through  whom  Miss  Zarviah  heard  only  that  he 
was  living  and  doing  well,  —  and  so  she  was  left  alone. 

But  there  was  a  sore  spot  in  her  old  heart.  A  conscien 
tious  person  should  beware  of  getting  into  a  passion,  for 
every  sharp  word  one  speaks  comes  back  and  lodges  like  a 


262  A   DOG'S   MISSION 

sliver  in  one's  own  heart ;  and  such  slivers  hurt  us  worse 
than  they  ever  can  any  one  else. 

It  was  true  she  was  now  mistress  of  the  house,  with  not 
a  soul  to  disarrange  any  of  her  matters.  She  could  clean 
and  shut  up  rooms,  and  nobody  opened  them.  There  was 
no  litter,  no  dirt  anywhere,  for  there  was  nobody  to  make 
any.  She  and  her  house  were  as  clean  and  orderly  as  she 
wanted  to  be  ;  nobody  whittled  ;  nobody  whistled  ;  there 
were  no  footsteps  to  track  the  floors ;  no  tramping  up  and 
down  stairs. 

The  old  clock  ticked  away  hour  after  hour,  the  only  sound 
to  be  heard  in  the  ancient  dwelling.  Miss  Avery  had  a  sort 
of  shivering,  unspoken  sense  of  lonesomeness.  The  waters 
of  life  were  freezing  around  her,  and  the  circle  unfrozen  nar 
rowed  every  year,  as  one  crony  and  acquaintance  after  an 
other  dropped  out  of  life  and  came  no  more. 

Still,  from  year  to  year,  she  opened  and  aired  chambers 
that  nobody  ever  slept  in,  and  at  stated  intervals  routed 
everything  out  and  conducted  a  severe  house-cleaning  where 
no  dirt  had  been  made.  As  for  her  own  personal  quarters, 
they  had  narrowed  themselves  down  into  one  room,  which 
was  to  her  bedroom,  kitchen,  and  sitting-room. 

The  old  family  "  keeping-room "  was  shut  up  and  kept  in 
an  immaculately  clean  state,  with  its  bright  brass  andirons, 
with  a  bright  brass  candlestick  on  each  end  of  the  mantel 
piece.  One  day  in  a  week  she  scrubbed  the  white  floor  on 
her  hands  and  knees,  as  also  the  table  and  dresser  in  like 
manner.  All  her  tins  were  brightened,  and  everything  made 
resplendent,  and  she  sat  down  to  her  knitting  victorious. 

One  would  have  said  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
rest  on  her  laurels,  but  alas  !  perfection  is  not  for  mortals. 

The  dust  from  the  avenue  before  the  house,  kept  lively 
by  whirling  carriages,  would  filter  through  the  cracks  of  the 
old  mansion,  and  rest  on  tables  and  chairs  in  a  manner  to 
keep  her  combativeness  on  the  stretch. 


THE   OLD   HOUSE   AND    THE   OLD   WOMAN  263 

Then  rats  and  mice  bred,  mustered,  and  multiplied  in  the 
house.  Certain  cockroaches,  too,  had  invaded  the  ancient 
dwelling,  and  set  up  housekeeping  in  its  old  cracks  and 
crannies.  In  vain  Miss  Avery  scolded,  scrubbed,  scoured ; 
they  throve  and  multiplied  and  grew  impudently  bold. 

But  the  dust  and  the  cockroaches,  and  the  rats  and  the 
mice,  were  nothing  to  another  trial  of  Miss  Zarviah's  life,— 
the  boys! 

Back  of  her  fence  ran  a  little  alley  that  abounded  with 
some  of  the  noisiest  and  most  graceless  little  wretches  in 
Hindford.  These  boys  were  in  the  habit  of  swarming 
over  her  fence  and  through  her  yard  as  a  shorter  cut  to  the 
avenue. 

This,  which  was  at  first  a  matter  of  mere  convenience, 
became  amusing  to  the  boys  when  Miss  Zarviah,  broom  in 
hand,  and  with  her  mouth  filled  with  objurgations,  chased 
them  and  ordered  them  out  of  her  yard,  and  threatened  them 
with  the  police. 

Then  the  matter  became  exciting,  and  the  fun  of  making 
old  Witch  Avery  mad,  cutting  through  her  yard  and  over 
her  fence,  and  hearing  her  scold  when  safely  lodged  behind 
it,  was  a  stimulating  form  of  recreation  to  these  graceless 
little  wretches,  and  great  were  the  glee  of  the  boys  and  the 
energetic  rage  of  Miss  Zarviah  on  one  of  these  occasions, 
which  is  the  subject  of  our  next  chapter. 

Such  was  Miss  Zarviah,  such  her  troubles  and  tribula 
tions,  when  our  story  opens. 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    DOG    TAKES    REFUGE    WITH    THE    OLD    WOMAN 

IT  was  a  dreary,  dripping  November  night,  just  between 
daylight  and  dusk.  Miss  Zarviah  had  hung  on  her  lonely 
tea-kettle,  and  was  proceeding  with  her  arrangements  for 
an  evening  meal,  when,  Whoop !  hurrah !  hallo  !  and  a 
sound  of  a  yelping  dog  and  of  pattering  footsteps  came 
through  her  yard. 

Instantly  she  seized  the  broom,  and  ran  and  opened  the 
back  door.  Something  that  looked  like  a  draggled  bundle 
of  rags  swept  by  her  into  the  house  with  a  rattling  noise, 
and  fled  into  the  room  and  under  her  bed. 

"  Now,  you  wretches,  if  you  don't  get  out  this  minute, 
I'll  —  " 

Vigorous  blows  of  the  broom  finished  the  sentence.  The 
little  imps  danced  and  shouted,  but  retreated  towards  the 
fence. 

"  We  want  our  dog.  He  7s  run  into  your  old  house  !  " 
shouted  the  boldest. 

"  You  sha'n't  have  your  dog !  and  if  you  don't  clear  out, 
I  '11  call  the  watch  !  "  and  Miss  Avery  seconded  her  words 
with  well-directed  thwacks  and  thumps,  which  sent  the 
whole  posse  in  a  giggling  cataract  over  the  fence,  behind 
which  rose  such  parting  salutes  as  these  : 

"  Who  cares  for  you,  old  Witch  Avery  ?  " 

"  We  '11  come  in  for  all  you  !  " 

"  Catch  us  if  you  can !  Where  ?s  your  policeman  ?  " 
and  away  they  went. 


THE  DOG  TAKES  KEFUGE   WITH   THE   OLD   WOMAN      265 

Miss  Avery  went  in  and  shut  the  door. 

She  came  back  into  her  room  and  hung  up  her  broom. 
She  felt  on  the  whole  that  she  had  gained  a  victory,  —  the 
enemy  had  lost  the  dog  and  she  had  got  him.  That  was 
some  comfort,  and  instantly  her  whole  nature  rose  in  deter 
mination  that  they  never  should  have  him  again. 

She  looked  under  her  bed,  and  there,  crouching  in  the 
far  corner,  the  fire-light  gleamed  upon  a  pair  of  great 
mournful  eyes,  and  a  subdued  whine  came  from  the  ob 
scurity. 

Miss  Avery  never  had  been  fond  of  dogs,  but  this  dog 
she  had  resolved  to  protect,  and  all  her  combativeness  was 
on  his  side. 

"  Come  here,  doggie  !  "  she  said  ;  "  good  doggie  !  "  So 
she  tried  to  call  him  out. 

But  the  tones  were  rather  dry,  and  wanting  in  native 
cordiality,  and  doggie  only  crouched  farther  in  his  corner, 
and  gave  another  piteous  whine. 

Miss  Zarviah  moved  the  bed,  and  walking  straight  into 
the  dark  corner,  reached  down  and  took  him. 

The  poor  wretch  was  drabbled  with  mud,  and  an  old  tin 
kettle,  which  had  been  tied  to  his  tail,  rattled  dubiously  as 
she  lifted  him. 

"  Well,  did  I  ever  ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Zarviah,  and  she 
brought  him  out  to  the  fire-light,  and  setting  him  down, 
put  on  her  spectacles,  took  her  scissors  and  cut  the  string. 

The  pail  fell  off,  and  the  creature  looked  up  at  her  with 
his  great  sad  eyes,  and  licked  her  hand  humbly. 

"  Well,  I  do  declare  !  you  poor  cre'tur !  "  said  Miss  Zar 
viah. 

The  dog  was  quivering  and  trembling  with  wet,  cold, 
and  fright,  but  seemed  to  understand  that  Miss  Zarviah 
meant  well  by  him ;  he  tried  to  wag  his  bedraggled  tail, 
and  then  raising  himself  on  his  hind  legs,  he  made  vigor 
ous  gestures  of  supplication  with  his  two  fore-paws.  Evi- 


266  A   DOG'S   MISSION 

dently  this  was  an  accomplishment  which  had  been  taught 
him  in  more  prosperous  days,  and  which  he  now  brought 
forth  as  a  means  of  conciliation. 

It  had  its  effect  on  Miss  Zarviah. 

"  Well,  I  will,"  she  said ;  "  poor  doggie  !  I  won't  let 
any  one  catch  you  again ;  but  you  must  be  washed  .clean." 

And  Miss  Zarviah  brought  a  small  tub  which  she  filled 
tenderly  and  carefully,  adding  warm  water  from  her  tea 
kettle,  and  testing  it  with  her  hand  as  if  for  a  baby.  Then 
she  produced  soap  and  towels,  and  set  to  work  vigorously. 

She  washed  and  scrubbed  till  the  dog  seemed  really  to 
half  melt  away,  and  be  no  bigger  than  a  good-sized  cat. 
Then  she  wiped  him  dry,  wrapped  him  in  an  old  flannel 
petticoat,  tucked  him  up  in  a  basket,  and  set  him  in  the 
warmest  corner  to  dry,  while  she  proceeded  to  get  her 
supper. 

Her  protege  stopped  shivering,  gave  a  sound  of  satisfac 
tion  as  he  nestled  himself  in  the  warm  flannel,  and  followed 
her  with  his  great  bright  eyes  as  she  arranged  her  supper. 

Miss  Avery  was  methodical  in  all  her  ways,  and  this 
night  was  the  precise  night  of  the  week  when  she  always 
made  milk  toast,  and  so  milk  toast  she  proceeded  to  make. 

She  shook  down  a  glowing  clear  bed  of  coals ;  she  cut  a 
couple  of  slices  of  very  nice  bread ;  she  put  a  skillet  of 
milk  down  to  heat,  and  proceeded  to  toast  her  bread  on  the 
end  of  a  long  fork.  The  large  bright  eyes  in  the  flannel 
surveyed  these  proceedings  with  much  apparent  interest. 

When  the  milk  was  poured  into  the  skillet,  there  was  a 
stir  in  the  basket,  and  the  occupant  struggled  to  get  a  good 
view  of  her  progress. 

"  The  cre'tur  really  seems  to  know  that  there  are  victuals 
getting  ready,"  said  Miss  Zarviah ;  "no  doubt  he 's  hungry ; " 
and  with  this  thought  she  cut  another  half  slice. 

When  the  dipped  toast  was  made,  and  the  tea  drawn,  and 
the  little  round  stand  set  out  before  the  fire,  and  Miss  Avery 


THE  DOG  TAKES  KEFUGE   WITH   THE   OLD   WOMAN      267 

sat  down  to  enjoy  her  tea,  there  was  another  commotion  in 
the  flannel. 

Miss  Avery  looked ;  the  dog  was  standing  up  in  his  basket, 
gazing  very  intelligently  at  the  tea-table. 

"  Lie  down,  doggie,"  she  said,  "  you  shall  have  your 
supper  by  and  by." 

But  doggie  did  not  lie  down,  but  got  out  of  his  basket, 
and  gave  himself  a  shake  and  a  lick  here  and  there,  and 
having  repaired  to  the  best  of  his  ability  the  defects  in  his 
toilet,  he  came  and  sat  down  by  Miss  Zarviah,  and  rising  on 
his  hind  legs,  made  as  before  supplicating  gestures  with  his 
fore-paws. 

The  mouthful  of  dipped  toast  that  was  going  to  Miss 
Zarviah's  mouth  was  arrested,  and  she  held  it  to  him. 

He  took  it  off  her  fork  and  swallowed  it  with  evident 
appreciation. 

"  Well,  did  I  ever ! "  said  Miss  Avery.  "No,  I  never  did  ; 
why,  the  cre'tur  all  but  talks  !  Well,  well,"  she  said,  "  you 
shall  have  your  supper  right  away,"  and  she  cut  up  his  half- 
slice  of  toast,  and  put  a  liberal  allowance  of  milk  over  it,  and 
set  it  down  before  him,  and  he  fell  to  work  at  it  with  grati 
fying  earnestness. 

Miss  Avery  certainly  enjoyed  seeing  the  way  that  half-slice 
of  toast  was  disposed  of  more  than  she  did  the  corresponding 
morsel  which  she  was  eating  herself. 

"  What,  more  ?  "  she  said,  cheerfully,  as,  after  the  half- 
slice  had  disappeared,  the  great,  bright,  silent  eyes  looked 
up  at  her ;  and  immediately  the  saucer  was  replenished  with 
another  portion  nicely  cut-up,  which  speedily  went  the  way 
of  the  former  ;  and  thus  sociably  she  and  her  protege  finished 
the  supper. 


CHAPTER   III 

SHE    DISCOVERS    THAT    HE    IS    A    PROVIDENCE 

"  WELL,  of  all  things  !  Who  would  have  thought  it  ?  " 
mused  Miss  Avery,  as,  supper  being  over,  she  leaned  back 
in  her  chair  and  took  a  dispassionate  survey  of  her  new 
acquisition. 

He  was  now  quite  dry,  and  his  soft  flossy  hair  of  a  fine 
silver  color  would,  if  Miss  Avery  had  known  anything  of 
such  matters,  have  proclaimed  him  a  dog  of  blood  and  breed 
ing  ;  one  of  those  sagacious  little  Scotch  terriers  that  are 
pets  in  high  places. 

But  Miss  Avery  only  knew  that  he  was  a  dog  who,  by  a 
strange  "  Providence/7  as  she  called  it,  had  become  her  dog, 
and  now  she  was  meditating  what  to  call  him. 

Her  mind  reverted  to  the  days  long  since,  when  Eben 
brought  home  the  puppy  that  made  such  trouble,  and  called 
him  Trip. 

"  Poor  Eben  !  "  she  said,  "  I  reely  was  hard  on  him.  I 
wish  now  I  had  been  more  patient  with  Trip  —  just  for  his 
sake.  Well,  well,  we  do  things  that  we  can't  take  back, 
if  we  want  to  ever  so  much,'7  and  Miss  Avery  gave  a  sigh 
to  those  old  days,  and  concluded  to  call  her  adopted  pet 
Trip. 

She  tried  the  name  on  him,  and  he  looked  bright  and  wise, 
and  started  at  it  to  go  after  her  as  she  moved  about  the  room, 
setting  up  dishes  and  sweeping  the  hearth. 

If  ever  a  dog  could  express  eager,  quivering,  joyful  devo 
tion,  it  was  Trip  ;  and  his  assent  to  being  called  by  this  name 


SHE   DISCOVERS   THAT   HE   IS   A   PROVIDENCE      269 

was  so  unequivocal  that  Miss  Avery  flattered  herself  she 
had  hit  upon  the  very  cognomen  he  had  always  gone  by. 

Miss  Avery  swept  up  the  hearth,  mended  her  fire,  and  took 
out  her  knitting-work.  Trip,  who  had  no  knitting-work  of 
his  own,  looked  ardent  interest  in  and  approbation  of  all  her 
movements. 

It  was  a  new  sensation  to  Miss  Zarviah  to  be  looked  upon 
with  such  admiration  and  devotion  as  were  evident  in  Trip's 
great  soft  eyes.  He  seemed  so  every  way  companionable 
that  she  could  not  help  talking  to  him. 

"  Did  the  wicked  boys  plague  you  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  sym 
pathizing  tone.  "  Well,  they  sha'n't  any  more ;  I  '11  take 
care  of  you." 

The  effect  of  these  words  was  most  unexpected.  Trip 
jumped  up  and  rested  his  paws  against  Miss  Avery's  knees 
a  moment,  and  then,  as  if  taking  a  sudden  resolution,  he 
sprang  into  her  lap  boldly,  and  began  kissing  her  face  with 
eager  dog-caresses. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  Why,  Trip-pee  !  Why  !  why  !  Good  dog ! 
Don't !  don't !  "  said  Miss  Avery,  as  much  flustered  as  if  it 
was  a  suitor  that  was  declaring  his  regard  for  her.  "  There, 
there  !  get  down,  Trip." 

But  Trip  had  no  idea  of  getting  down ;  he  only  quirled 
himself  round,  and  established  himself  composedly  in  the 
hollow  of  her  lap. 

"  Did  I  ever !  "  said  Miss  Avery  ;  "  he 's  determined  to 
sit  in  my  lap  ;  well,  if  you  will,  you  will,"  and  Trip  nestled 
down,  closed  his  eyes,  and  seemed  inclined  to  take  a  nap  in 
this  comfortable  situation. 

Outside  the  wind  whistled  drearily  ;  the  rain  dripped 
from  the  eaves  with  a  dull,  lonely  thud ;  but  inside  the  fire 
purred  and  snapped  and  crackled,  and  the  knitting-needle 
clicked,  and  Miss  Avery  said  to  herself,  — 

"  Well,  how  much  company  a  cre'tur  is  !  "  and  she 
looked  down  at  Trip  with  patronizing  complacency. 


270  A  DOG'S   MISSION 

Miss  Avery  had  not  had  so  pleasant  an  evening  within 
her  recollection. 

It  seemed  wonderful  to  her  that  she,  who  had  always  de 
spised  dogs  and  opposed  their  way,  should  be  sitting  now 
with  one  in  her  lap,  and  enjoying  his  being  there.  Cer 
tainly,  there  must  be  a  Providence  in  it,  said  Miss  Avery. 

When  the  clock  struck  nine,  Miss  Avery  knit  into  her 
seam-needle,  and  rolled  up  her  knitting-work,  and  then,  in 
company  with  Trip,  proceeded  to  fasten  and  bolt  all  the 
doors,  and  to  take  a  tour  of  survey  through  all  the  house, 
and  look  under  every  bed  and  in  every  closet,  lest  a  robber 
might  have  slipped  in  and  hidden  himself. 

Trip  entered  into  this  survey  in  high  spirits,  scampering 
before  her,  racing  into  corners,  smelling  complacently  at 
rat-holes,  and  giving  here  and  there  a  lively  bark,  for  Trip 
had  rat-catching  blood  in  his  veins,  and  felt  his  foot  upon 
his  native  heath  in  an  old  rat-haunted  house. 

He  ran  under  beds  with  cheerful  alacrity,  and  saved  Miss 
Avery  7s  creaking  joints  the  trouble. 

When  they  entered  the  pantry  there  was  a  sudden  scuffle 
and  squeak,  and  Trip  stood  growling  and  glorious,  his  soft 
eyes  blazing,  shaking  a  rat  in  his  teeth. 

It  was  all  over  with  Mr.  Rat  in  a  minute  ;  but  Trip 
barked  and  leaped  and  shook  the  victim  over,  and  thrice  he 
slew  the  slain. 

"  Well,  I  declare,  you  are  a  good  dog  ;  there  Js  that  rat 
that  has  been  plaguing  me  night  after  night !  "  and  Miss 
Avery  glorified  and  fondled  Trip  to  his  heart's  content,  and 
was  more  than  ever  convinced  that  he  was  "  a  Providence.'7 


CHAPTER   IV 

HE    MAKES    HIMSELF    AGREEABLE 

WHEN  they  were  a  little  settled  down  from  this  excite 
ment,  Miss  A  very  raked  up  the  fire,  and  proceeded  to  array 
herself  for  the  night,  putting  on  a  portentous  night-cap  that 
so  altered  her  appearance  that  Trip  at  first  ran  away  and 
barked,  and  was  only  to  be  reconciled  when  she  stroked  and 
talked  to  him. 

Then  she  arranged  his  basket  in  the  warm  corner,  put 
him  in  it,  and  told  him  to  lie  down  and  be  a  good  doggie, 
and,  having  extinguished  her  candle,  turned  in  to  her  bed. 

She  felt  a  sweet  serenity  and  composure  in  having  her 
protege  so  nicely  disposed  of,  and  shut  her  eyes,  and  was 
dropping  off  to  sleep,  when  a  tick  of  paws  on  the  floor 
aroused  her. 

Trip  had  got  out  of  his  basket,  and  was  standing  by  her 
bedside  looking  up  wistfully. 

"  Why,  Trip,  Trippy  !  what 's  the  matter  ?  Go  lie  down, 
Trip!" 

A  whine,  and  a  begging  gesture  of  the  fore-paws. 

"Trippy,  go  lie  down;  there's  a  good  dog." 

Instead  of  this,  Trip  gave  a  spring,  and  jumped  upon  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  with  evident  indications  that  he  wanted  to 
sleep  there. 

She  was  astonished  at  his  presumption,  and  rising,  she 
took  him  firmly  in  her  arms,  and,  carrying  him  back  to  his 
basket,  said,  as  she  laid  him  down,  — 

"  There,  Trip,  that  is  a  nice  warm  bed  in  a  warm  corner, 


272  A  DOG'S  MISSION 

and  you  must  lie  down  and  be  still."  And  she  patted  him 
down,  and  drew  the  flannel  over  him. 

Trip  made  no  more  remarks  for  that  time,  but  lay  quite 
still  in  his  basket ;  and  Miss  Avery,  complacently  reflect 
ing  how  easy  it  was  to  train  dogs  in  the  way  they  should 
go,  resigned  herself  to  her  slumbers. 

Soon  as  a  fine  high  piping  through  the  nose  announced 
that  Miss  Avery  was  sound  asleep,  Master  Trip  ticked 
quietly  across  the  floor,  jumped  upon  the  bed,  and  settled 
himself  in  a  comfortable  little  ball  at  her  feet. 

The  next  morning  early,  Miss  Avery,  feeling  a  remarka 
ble  warmth  in  the  region  of  her  feet,  looked  down  and  saw 
the  foot- warmer  that  had  established  himself  there. 

The  moment  she  moved,  Trip  frisked  to  the  top  of  the 
bed,  and  kissed  her  face,  and  seemed  so  delighted  and 
overjoyed  to  see  her  awake  that  she  had  not  the  heart  to 
scold  him. 

"  The  cre'tur  's  ben  used  to  sleeping  on  somebody's  bed," 
she  said,  "  and  he  was  lonesome,  poor  fellow !  Well, 
Trippy,  you  've  kept  my  feet  beautiful  and  warm,  any 
how." 

Miss  Avery  now  began  to  reflect  on  the  responsibilities 
she  had  assumed.  Trip  was  certainly  a  lively,  entertaining 
companion,  and  he  had  warmed  quite  a  place  in  her  half- 
frozen  heart;  but  he  was  evidently  a  thoughtless,  frisky, 
heedless  fellow,  that  would  be  sure  to  fall  into  the  enemy's 
hands  again  if  she  did  n't  look  after  him. 

So,  the  first  thing  after  breakfast,  she  did  what  she  had 
so  long  vainly  threatened  to  do,  went  to  the  policeman  who 
had  charge  of  her  beat,  —  a  good-natured  man,  who  went 
to  the  same  church  with  her,  —  and  detailed  to  him  with 
some  warmth  her  persecutions  from  the  boys  of  the  neigh 
boring  alley ;  whereupon  he  took  down  their  names,  and 
assured  Miss  Avery  that  he  would  look  after  them  ;  and 
then  she  went  to  a  carpenter  near  by,  and,  as  a  consequence 


HE  MAKES   HIMSELF  AGKEEABLE  273 

of  this  interview,  her  backyard  before  night  was  adorned 
along  the  top  with  a  row  of  sharp,  lively  spikes,  set  points 
uppermost,  so  as  to  render  it  entirely  ineligible  as  a  mode 
of  entrance  or  egress.  So  she  began  to  feel  herself  forti 
fied  and  defended  in  the  possession  of  her  new  treasure. 

After  a  week  of  seclusion,  to  make  sure  that  Trip  would 
not  run  away,  Miss  Avery  took  him  with  her  whenever  she 
went  to  market  to  look  out  her  daily  meals,  to  the  stores, 
and  along  the  constitutional  walks  which  she  maintained 
for  the  benefit  of  her  health. 

But  Sundays  and  prayer-meeting  evenings  were  seasons 
of  heavy  affliction  to  him.  Trip  wanted  to  go  to  church 
like  a  good  Christian. 

Twice  he  scandalized  Miss  Avery  by  jumping  out  of  a 
window,  and  surreptitiously  following  her  to  church,  ap 
pearing  before  her  pew  door  with  a  joyous  and  confident 
air,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Why,  you  forgot  to  take  me  ! " 
and  Miss  Avery,  to  her  great  mortification,  was  obliged  to 
take  him  out,  with  boys  and  children  looking  on  and  titter 
ing  in  a  distressing  manner. 

Once,  too,  he  got  into  prayer-meeting,  nestling  so  dis 
creetly  and  quietly  under  her  skirts  that  she  never  saw  him 
till  the  services  were  over.  Then  he  was  wild  with  delight 
at  his  success,  and  barked  in  a  most  disreputable  manner 
all  the  way  home. 

Trip  was  always  scurrying  off  after  cats,  or  hens,  or  other 
dogs,  in  their  daily  promenades,  to  her  poignant  anxiety 
and  affliction. 

At  last,  while  whirling  across  a  crossing  to  speak  to  an 
other  dog  who  was  running  with  a  carriage,  he  got  tumbled 
under  the  wheel,  and  broke  one  of  his  fore-paws,  and  came 
back  to  Miss  Avery  crying  and  limping  on  three  legs. 

If  Miss  Avery  could  have  been  told  a  year  before  of  the 
patience,  the  loving  kindness,  with  which  she  was  to  nurse 
a  dog  through  indiscretions  like  these,  she  would  almost 


274  A  DOG'S   MISSION 

have  said,  with  the  Scriptural  character,  "  Is  thy  servant  a 
dog  to  do  this  ?  " 

But  the  fact  was,  that  Trip  seemed  only  to  win  the  more 
on  her  heart  for  having  broken  his  paw. 

Miss  Avery  bandaged  it  and  wet  it  with  camphor,  held 
him  in  her  lap,  let  him  sleep  on  her  bed ;  and  two  or  three 
times  in  the  night,  when  he  cried,  got  up  to  wet  his  bandage, 
and  to  console  and  comfort  him. 

Poor  Miss  Avery  !  No  more  alone  in  the  world,  for 
there  was  this  little  silver-colored  thing  with  dark  eyes  that 
adored  her,  worshiped  her,  depended  on  her,  and  that  she 
thought  and  cared  for  and  loved  in  return. 

So  wore  the  winter  away ;  but  in  the  spring,  when  the 
new  leaves  came  out  on  the  trees,  a  new  leaf  was  turned 
in  Miss  Avery's  history. 


CHAPTER  V 

BLUE    EYES    COMES    TO    SEE    HIM 

"  PLEASE,  ma'am,  may  I  come  in  and  see  your  dog  ?  " 

These  words  were  spoken  on  a  bright  June  day,  when 
the  lilacs  were  abloom  in  front  of  the  old  house.  Miss 
Avery  stood  out  on  the  stone  nagging  at  the  back  side  of 
her  house  doing  some  washing,  and  Trip  was  present  help 
ing  her. 

The  words  were  piped  up  in  a  clear  little  voice  that 
seemed  to  come  from  fairy  land.  Miss  Avery  was  at  first 
dazed  and  astonished,  and  turned  round  to  look  for  the 
speaker. 

A  pair  of  great  blue  eyes  were  looking  up  at  her  out  of 
a  cloud  of  curly  hair.  A  little  cambric  sunbonnet  hung 
loosely  back  on  the  shoulders  of  a  small  maiden  who  seemed 
to  have  risen  out  of  the  flagstones. 

"  Eh  !  What  ?     What  do  you  say  ?  "  said  Miss  Avery. 

"  I  said,  '  Please  let  me  see  your  Carlo,  ma'am/  "  said 
the  little  girl,  making  movements  towards  Trip. 

"  His  name  is  n't  Carlo  ;  it 's  Trip,"  said  Miss  Avery, 
shortly. 

"  Oh,  is  it  ?  I  thought  it  was  Carlo.  May  n't  I  play 
with  him,  please,  ma'am  ?  " 

Trip,  meanwhile,  had  run  to  the  little  girl,  and  was  in 
vestigating  her  character,  applying  his  nose  seriously  to  her 
shoes  and  dress,  and,  apparently  satisfied,  jumped  up  and 
fawned  upon  her. 

"  He  's  just  like  a  dog  I  had  once  that  we  called  Carlo/' 


276  A  DOG'S   MISSION 

said  the  little  voice.  "  That  's  the  reason  I  wanted  to  see 
him." 

"But  he  is  my  dog,  child,"  said  Miss  Avery,  with  a 
withering  frown,  "  and  I  don't  want  anybody  to  come 
toling  him  away." 

"  Oh,"  said  Blue  Eyes,  in  the  most  conciliatory  tones, 
"I  know  he's  your  dog.  I  did  n't  mean  to  say  that  he 
was  my  Carlo,  only  that  he  was  like  my  Carlo,  and  that 
was  why  I  wanted  to  play  with  him.  I  love  dogs.  I 
won't  tole  him  away,  and  I  won't  make  any  trouble,  not  a 
bit.  I  just  want  to  stroke  him  and  play  with  him  a  little, 
he  's  such  a  dear  little  doggie  ;  and  see,  he  loves  me,"  and 
Trip,  springing  up,  kissed  the  little  face  with  tumultuous 
caresses. 

"Well,  well,  child,  there's  no  harm  in  your  stroking 
him  as  I  know  of,  but  you  must  n't  try  to  get  him  away," 
said  Miss  Avery,  but  half  pleased  with  the  intimacy  that 
she  saw  was  beginning. 

"  Oh,  I  shan't,  indeed  I  shan't ;  you  can  see.  I  '11  just 
play  with  him  here  a  few  minutes,  —  it 's  our  recess  now, 
and  I  can't  stay  long,  —  and  I  '11  be  very  careful  not  to 
trouble  you.  He  looks  so  much  like  my  Carlo  that  I  lost. 
He  run  away  last  fall,  and  we  never  could  find  him." 

Now  Miss  Avery  felt  a  severe  twinge  of  conscience.  She 
was,  in  fact,  the  most  ultra-conscientious  person  in  all  that 
respected  the  right  of  property. 

She  could  n't  help  the  uncomfortable  reflection,  "  What 
if  this  were  in  fact  somebody  else's  dog  ?  " 

It  was  a  question  she  did  not  wish  to  have  opened  for 
discussion. 

She  did  not  mean  to  believe  any  thing  of  that  kind,  and 
was  determined  to  make  good  her  right  in  him. 

But  she  compromised  with  her  conscience  in  thinking 
she  would  let  the  little  girl  come  and  enjoy  his  society 
under  her  own  auspices. 


BLUE  EYES   COMES  TO   SEE   HIM  277 

So  when  the  child  said,  — 

"I  guess  it's  time  to  go  back  to  school  now,  but  if 
you  '11  let  me,  I  '11  come  next  recess,"  Miss  Avery  re 
sponded  graciously,  — 

"  If  you  '11  be  a  good  little  girl  and  not  make  any 
trouble,  you  may  come  and  play  with  the  dog  whenever 
you  like." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  ma'am.  I  '11  try  to  be  as  good  j  I  '11 
be  very  quiet,  and  do  just  as  you  tell  me,"  and  the  little 
puss  gave  a  parting  kiss  and  hug  to  Trip,  and  then  made  a 
courtesy  to  Miss  Avery,  and  ran  off  to  her  school. 

"It  is  n't  —  it  can't  —  it  shan't  be  her  dog,"  said  Miss 
Avery  to  herself.  "  I  saved  his  life ;  he  'd  have  been  dead 
before  now  if  it  had  n't  been  for  me.  Who  has  the  best 
right,  a  little  careless  chit  like  that,  that  never  ought  to  be 
trusted  with  a  cre'tur,  or  one  that  knows  how  to  take  care 
of  'em !  Besides,  Trip  loves  me :  he  wants  to  stay  with 
me,  and  cre'turs  have  some  rights  ;  they  know  who  they 
want  to  stay  with,  and  they  ought  to  stay  where  they  are 
taken  care  of.  Trip  is  happy  here,  and  he  ought  to  stay 
here." 

Thus  Miss  Avery  reasoned  while  stirring  about  her 
housework,  sweeping,  dusting,  and  scouring  on  the  imma 
culate  keeping-room. 

"  You  love  me,  don't  you,  Trip  ?  "  she  often  asked, 
stopping  for  a  moment  in  her  work,  and  Trip  frisked  and 
jumped  and  licked  her  face  and  hands,  and  in  every  possi 
ble  inflection  of  dog  dialect  professed  his  undying  fealty 
and  devotion. 

"  What  nonsense  !  What  a  fool  I  am  to  worry,"  she 
said ;  "  jest  for  that  little  chit  who  don't  know  one  dog 
from  another.  Suppose  she  did  have  a  dog  run  away. 
Does  that  prove  that  this  is  the  dog  ?  Of  course  not.  The 
city  is  full  of  dogs ;  one  dog  looks  just  like  another.  Be 
sides,  her  dog  was  named  Carlo,  and  this  one  was  named 


278  A    DOG'S  MISSION 

Trip.  I  knew  his  name  was  Trip  j  he  knew  his  name  the 
first  time  I  called  it.  Don't  tell  me  !  "  and  Miss  Avery 
shook  her  head  threateningly  at  an  imaginary  opponent, 
and  as  she  had  an  old  red  handkerchief  tied  over  it  with 
flapping  ends,  her  head-shaking  appeared  really  formidable 
and  convincing.  Trip  barked  at  her  once  or  twice,  she 
looked  so  very  belligerent. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    WOMAN    WHO    HATES    DOGS 

ISTow  little  Blue  Eyes  had  the  fullest  conviction  in  her 
wise  young  heart  that  this  was  her  own  dog  —  her  lost  Carlo. 
Her  father  had  bought  for  her  in  New  York  a  little  silky 
silver-colored  Scotch  terrier,  and  given  fifty  dollars  for  him, 
on  purpose  that  Blue  Eyes  might  have  him  for  a  playmate 
and  confidential  friend  while  her  mother  and  he  were  gone. 

But,  unfortunately,  Mrs.  Symons,  in  whose  house  and 
under  whose  care  the  little  one  was  placed,  was  one  of  those 
good  women  who  hate  dogs  of  every  degree.  She  never 
would  have  one  in  the  house  if  she  could  help  it,  and  Carlo 
was  sedulously  kept  outside  of  the  house  at  all  times,  except 
when  his  little  mistress  was  at  home.  If  he  happened  to 
stray  into  the  parlor  or  dining-room,  the  good  lady  seemed 
to  feel  that  the  place  had  been  polluted,  —  his  hair,  she 
declared,  would  come  off  on  the  sofa  or  chairs,  or  he  would 
be  sure  to  do  some  mysterious  mischief,  and  so  he  was 
broomed  out  ignominiously  as  soon  as  Bright  Eyes'  back 
was  turned. 

Carlo  naturally  did  n't  like  this  state  of  things.  He  be 
came  despondent  and  timorous,  and  would  make  frequent 
excursions  into  the  street  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  looking  for 
his  young  mistress.  In  one  of  these  excursions  he  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  rabble  of  boys  that  infested  Miss  Avery's 
back  lane,  and  for  six  months  had  been  lost  to  the  sight, 
though  dear  to  the  memory,  of  poor  little  Blue  Eyes. 

So,  the  first  day  she  had  seen  him  at  Miss  Avery's,  she 


280  A  DOG'S   MISSION 

went  home  and  announced  that  she  had  found  Carlo.  The 
news  was  received  with  very  active  opposition  on  the  part 
of  Mrs.  Symons. 

"  Why,  no,  child  !  you  can't  have  found  Carlo  !  How  do 
you  know  ?  There  are  dozens  of  dogs  of  that  sort.  Carlo 
has  been  gone  these  six  months,  and  for  my  part  I  am  glad 
of  it ;  he  was  nothing  but  a  plague." 

"  Well,  at  any  rate,  Miss  Avery  says  I  may  come  and  see 
him,  and  play  with  him  at  her  house,"  said  Blue  Eyes,  "  and 
that 's  better  than  having  him  here,  because  Miss  Avery 
likes  him,  and  is  kind  to  him." 

"  What !  that  old  cross  Miss  Avery  ?  " 

"  She  is  n't  cross ;  she's  just  as  good  as  she  can  be  to 
Carlo.  She  calls  him  '  Trip,'  she  thinks  everything  of  him, 
and  she  says  I  may  come  to  see  him  as  often  as  I  've  a  mind 
to  ;  and  I  shall  go  and  see  him  every  day,  and  all  Saturday 
afternoon,"  said  the  little  one,  resolutely,  as  she  went  up 
stairs. 

"  Wife,"  said  Mr.  Symons,  who  had  been  listening  to  this 
talk  from  the  next  room,  "  did  she  say  it  was  Miss  Avery 
she  was  visiting  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  "  said  his  helpmeet. 

"  Well,  let  her  go  there.  But  what  is  the  attraction  ? 
Not  Miss  Avery's  personal  charms,  I  'm  sure." 

"  No  ;  it 's  a  little  dog  that  the  child  thinks  is  like  hers 
that  ran  away.  For  my  part,  I  think  like  enough  it  is  hers. 
But  I  'd  rather  Miss  Avery  would  keep  it  than  have  it  back 
in  the  house  here.  I  hate  dogs,  and  I  was  glad  when  it  ran 
away.  But  just  to  think  that  the  child  should  go  right  to 
the  house  of  her  own  aunt  !  " 

Now  Mr.  Symons  was  the  friendly  lawyer  to  whom  Eben 
Avery  had  committed  the  management  of  his  property.  The 
little  girl  had  been  left  with  him  this  summer,  while  the 
parents  were  away  attending  to  some  necessary  business. 
In  the  fall  they  were  to  come  back,  and  then  there  was  to 
be  an  attempt  at  a  final  settlement  of  the  Avery  estate. 


THE   WOMAN  WHO  HATES  DOGS  281 

Eben  Avery  had  become  a  stout,  cheery,  well-to-do  man 
of  forty,  had  come  hack  from  California,  and  was  desirous 
now  to  return  to  Hindford  and  build  a  house  on  the  old 
place. 

Miss  Avery's  life-right  in  the  ancient  ruinous  dwelling 
was  all  that  stood  in  the  way  of  the  plan,  and  Mr.  Symons 
had  long  been  searching  for  acceptable  words  wherewith  to 
break  to  her  the  news  of  her  brother's  return,  and  of  his 
plans. 

He  had  mentally  surveyed  her  as  a  fortress  to  be  carried, 
and  had  not  known  where  to  effect  an  entrance.  When, 
therefore,  he  heard  what  the  little  one  had  done,  he  put 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  gave  a  contented  whistle. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  the  old  woman  's  such  a  crotchety, 
crabbed  old  thing,  I  did  n't  know  how  to  go  to  work  with 
her ;  and  there  was  no  saying  whether  she  'd  take  to  Eben, 
or  whether  she  'd  rake  up  the  old  grudge.  There  ?s  never 
knowing  what  folks  will  do  in  their  family  quarrels.  But 
there  's  a  soft  streak  in  the  old  lady,  it  appears.  Better  let 
Patty  Coram  work  on  her.  She  '11  bring  her  round,  if  any 
body  can.  Of  course,  she  don't  know  whose  child  it  is  ?  " 

"  Oh  no ;  I  don't  think  she  does." 

"  Well,  tell  Patty  Coram  not  to  tell  her.  There  's  never 
any  saying  with  these  crotchety  people.  It  might  spoil  all 
the  fun  if  she  knew  whose  daughter  she  was.  She  7d  get 
going  over  the  old  story  of  the  quarrel  between  her  and 
Eben,  and  maybe  it  would  set  her  against  the  girl." 

So  Mrs.  Symons  warned  the  little  one,  with  many  a  head- 
shake,  that  old  Miss  Avery  was  very  queer  indeed,  and  she 
better  not  tell  her  name  to  her  —  it  might  make  the  old 
lady  cross,  and  she  would  n't  let  her  come ;  but  that  if  she 
were  careful  she  might  go  and  see  Carlo  as  often  as  she 
liked.  And  Mrs.  Symons  congratulated  herself  that  the 
dreadful  dog  was  thus  taken  care  of  in  a  way  to  both  sat 
isfy  his  young  mistress  and  keep  him  out  of  her  own  way. 


CHAPTER  VII 

BLUE  EYES  PURSUES  HER  ADVANTAGE 

THE  next  day  the  little  girl  came  again,  and  this  time  the 
interview  was  accorded  in  the  house. 

It  was  bright  June  weather,  and  the  "  keeping-room " 
windows  were  open,  and  the  smell  of  lilacs  came  pleasantly 
in,  and  Miss  Avery  sat  with  her  sewing.  "  Oh,  how  pleas 
ant  it  is  here,"  said  Blue  Eyes.  "  I'm  so  glad  you  let  me 
come.  I  do  love  Trip  so,  and  Trip  is  glad  to  see  me,  ain't 
you,  Trip  ?  " 

Trip  responded  to  this  with  his  usual  effusion,  expend 
ing  so  many  caresses  on  the  little  face  that  Miss  Avery  be 
gan  to  feel  a  twinge  of  jealousy. 

"  What  is  your  name,  little  girl  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Oh,  I  've  got  lots  of  names.  Papa  calls  me  Pussy  and 
Daisy  ;  and  Mr.  Symons  calls  me  Patty  Coram,  and  Aunty 
Symons  calls  me  Pet,  and  I  don't  know  which  is  my 
name." 

"  Do  you  live  with  Mr.  Symons  ?  " 

"Yes,  I'm  staying  with  them  now  till  my  papa  and 
mamma  come  ;  they  're  gone  a  journey  now,  and  Aunt  Sy 
mons  takes  care  of  me  while  they  're  gone,  and  I  go  to 
school  to  the  school-house  on  this  street, —  that's  where  I 
go  to  school,  —  and  it 's  so  near  I  can  come  in  at  recess ; 
but  it 's  time  to  go  now,"  said  the  little  maid,  running  for 
her  bonnet.  "  Please,  Miss  Avery,  may  I  come  here  to 
morrow  afternoon  ?  To-morrow  is  Saturday,  and  I  can 
stay  a  good  long  while." 


BLUE  EYES   PUESUES  HER  ADVANTAGE  283 

Miss  Avery  looked  intently  into  the  great,  wide,  earnest 
blue  eyes  that  were  looking  up  from  her  knee, — it  was  as  if 
a  blue  violet  were  talking  to  her, —  and  the  little  rosy  mouth 
quivered  with  earnestness. 

She  said,  "  Yes,  my  dear,"  in  a  voice  softer  than  she  was 
in  the  habit  of  using.  The  little  one,  with  an  impulsive 
movement,  threw  her  arms  round  her  neck  and  kissed  her. 

"  Oh,"  said  Miss  Avery,  half-pleased,  half-shocked,  "  you 
should  n't  kiss  such  an  old  thing  as  I  am." 

"  Yes  I  should,  because  you  are  good  to  me,"  said  Blue 
Eyes,  as  she  kissed  her  again,  and  then  tripped  lightly 
away. 

Miss  Avery  sat  in  a  sort  of  maze.  Those  kisses  had 
roused  a  commotion  in  her  dry  old  heart. 

"  What  a  dear  little  thing  it  is  !  "  she  said.  "  Strange 
she  should  want  to  kiss  me, —  my  poor  old  withered  face ! 
Well,  if  she 's  coming  to-morrow  — " 

Miss  Avery  here  rose  and  went  to  her  pantry.  As  if  in 
spired  by  a  new  thought,  she  changed  her  dress  immedi 
ately,  and  put  on  one  devoted  to  cooking,  and  went  to  work 
with  flour  and  sugar  and  spices  to  compound  some  cakes 
such  as  she  remembered  Eben  used  to  love.  She  sifted,  she 
grated,  she  pounded,  she  beat  eggs,  to  Trip's  great  amaze 
ment. 

"  Yes,  Trippy,"  she  said,  "  you  and  I  are  going  to  have 
company  to-morrow,  and  we  must  get  ready,  Trippy,  must 
n't  we  ?  " 

Trip  responded  vigorously  to  the  suggestion,  and  flew 
about  in  a  very  active  manner  to  express  his  pleasure  in  the 
proceedings. 

Miss  Avery  cleared  her  fire,  and  put  down  her  tin  baker, 
and  soon  the  cakes  rose  clear  and  light,  and  browned  to  her 
heart's  content. 

"  I  '11  frost  them,"  she  said,  meditatively.  "  Children 
always  like  frosting.  Oh,  if  I  had  only  some  caraway  sugar- 


284  A  DOG'S  MISSION 

plums  to  put  on  top  !  Oh,  you  Trip,  if  you  were  good  for 
anything,  I  could  send  you  over  to  get  some  caraways." 

But  as  Trip,  with  all  his  activity,  could  not  compass  this 
errand,  Miss  Avery  changed  her  dress  again,  and  went 
across  to  a  confectioner's,  and  bought  an  ounce  of  caraway 
sugar-plums  of  divers  colors  most  brilliant  to  behold,  where 
with,  on  her  return,  she  adorned  the  frosting  of  her  little 
cakes. 

Then  Miss  Avery  remembered  an  upper  drawer  in  which 
there  was  a  china  image  of  a  little  white  lamb  standing  in  a 
very  green  china  hedge  of  very  pink  and  blue  flowers,  and 
this  lamb  she  now  drew  out  of  his  hiding-place. 

It  was  given  to  her  when  she  was  a  little  girl,  and  as  she 
looked  at  it,  her  thoughts  traveled  back  to  the  days  when 
she  was  no  higher  than  this  little  one,  and  when  Saturday 
afternoon  was  a  paradise  of  untold  brightness  for  her. 

She  set  it  on  the  mantel-piece  between  the  candlesticks, 
and  in  front  of  the  snuffer-tray. 

Then  she  proceeded  to  cover  a  ball  of  old  ravelings  with 
some  bright  flannels,  and  fasten  a  long  cord  to  it,  for  the 
little  girl  and  Trip  to  play  with  together  ;  and  just  to  try 
its  effects,  she  threw  it  time  and  again,  and  laughed  to  see 
Trip  scamper  after  it. 

"  Why,  what  a  fool  I  am !  "  she  said,  when  she  had  con 
sumed  about  half  an  hour  playing  with  Trip. 

Miss  Avery  was  beginning  to  feel  young  again. 


CHAPTEE  VIII 

A    BRIGHT    SATURDAY    AFTERNOON 

THE  keeping-room  wore  quite  a  festive  air.  Some  pur 
ple  and  white  lilacs  in  an  old  china  vase  adorned  the  table, 
and  Miss  Avery,  conscious  of  stores  of  attractions  in  her 
cupboard,  had  been  waiting  impatiently  for  her  little  visi 
tor,  when  she  heard  a  knock  at  the  front  door,  and  it  was 
a  race  between  her  and  Trip  which  should  get  to  it  first. 

Trip's  joyful  barks  filled  the  house,  while  Miss  Avery 
pulled  and  jerked  the  old  front  door,  which,  being  rheu 
matic  and  unused  to  opening,  hung  obstinately  back,  and  at 
last  flew  open  with  a  bounce  that  was  like  to  upset  them  both. 

"There,  now!"  said  the  little  one.  "It's  Saturday 
afternoon,  and  I  can  stay  till  sundown  ;  ain't  you  glad  ?  " 
she  asked,  looking  up  at  Miss  Avery  with  great,  clear,  wide 
blue  eyes. 

"  To  be  sure  I  am,"  said  Miss  Avery,  heartily,  as  she 
hung  up  the  little  bonnet ;  and  then,  taking  down  the  china 
lamb  from  the  mantel,  she  said,  "  See  there  !  that 's  what 
I  used  to  play  with  when  I  was  a  little  girl ;  you  shall 
play  with  it  when  you  come  to  see  me." 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful !     May  I  take  it  ?  "   said  the  child. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Avery ;  and  stooping  shyly  towards 
her,  as  she  handed  the  toy,  she  said,  — 

"  Have  n't  you  got  another  kiss  for  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes,"  said  the  little  one,  throwing  her  arms 
round  her  neck.  "  I  ;ve  got  twenty  kisses  for  you  ;  for  I 
really  love  you,  'cause  you  are  so  good." 


286  A  DOG'S   MISSION 

"  No,  no,  1 'm  not  good,"  said  Miss  Avery,  with  a  half- 
sigh  ;  "  Pm  a  poor,  homely,  cross  old  woman." 

"  No,  you  're  not ;  you  're  not  cross  a  bit.  Nobody  shall 
say  you  are  cross,  shall  they,  Trippy  ?  Trip  knows  how 
good  you  are,  don't  he,  Trippy  ?  "  And  Trip  barked  an 
energetic  testimony  of  Miss  Avery's  goodness. 

Miss  Avery  felt  the  sweet  flattery  of  a  child's  love  with 
a  new  and  strange  delight,  and  all  the  lines  of  her  face 
softened  and  lighted  up,  so  that  she  looked  almost  hand 
some. 

The  small  visitor  now  chattered  on  like  a  little  brook 
over  stones,  running  here  and  there,  and  asking  questions 
about  everything  she  saw. 

"  What  funny  chamber  stairs !  "  she  said,  as  she  peeped 
into  the  entry  ;  "  they  look  just  like  pieces  of  pie.  Can 
Trippy  and  I  go  and  see  what  is  up  there  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  '11  show  you,"  said  Miss  Avery  •  and  she 
took  the  little  girl  and  Trip  the  round  of  the  chambers 
above. 

One  of  them  was  kept  with  a  special  nicety.  The  win 
dow  curtains  were  spotless  and  white,  the  bed  was  neatly 
made  ;  there  was  a  writing-table  with  books  and  papers  on  it. 

"  This  was  my  brother's  room,"  said  Miss  Avery. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  said  the  little  one,  innocently. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Avery,  and  her  countenance 
fell. 

The  little  one  picked  up  a  book  on  the  table,  and  opened 
it,  and  read  on  the  fly-leaf,  — 

"EBEN  AVERY." 

"  Why,  that 's  my  papa  's  name  !  "  she  said ;  "  his 
name 's  Eben  Avery." 

Miss  Avery  turned  pale  and  sat  down  in  a  chair,  putting 
her  hand  to  her  head.  The  room  seemed  to  go  round  for 
a  moment ;  but  in  a  moment  more  she  commanded  herself, 
and  said,  — 


A   BRIGHT   SATURDAY  AFTERNOON  287 

"  Your  papa's  name  Eben  Avery  ?     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"He's  traveling  now.  I  don't  know  where  he  and 
mamma  are,  but  he  ?s  coming  here  by  and  by.  We  used  to 
live  way,  way,  way  off,  out  in  California  ;  but  papa  is  coming 
to  live  here  in  Hindford." 

"  Oh,  you  dear  child!  you  dear  child  !  "  said  Miss  Avery, 
catching  her  in  her  arms  with  a  sort  of  dry  sob.  "  Why, 
I  'm  your  own  aunty  !  Your  father  was  my  brother  Eben. 
This  used  to  be  his  room  when  he  was  a  boy.  Thank  the 
Lord  I  see  you !  "  she  said. 

"  Well,  there  now !  I  knew  you  must  be  my  aunty," 
said  the  little  one  cheerily,  "  you  are  so  good  to  me ;  you 
are  my  ownty  downty  aunty,  and  I  shall  love  you  always  ; " 
and  this  was  confirmed  by  a  shower  of  kisses. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Miss  Avery.  "  I  wasn't  good  to  your 
poor  father ;  I  was  cross  to  him.  I  did  n't  mean  to  be 
cross,  but  I  was  ;  but  I  '11  never  be  cross  to  you,  my  dar 
ling.  I  '11  make  it  all  up  to  you." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  ever  was  cross  to  papa  or  anybody 
else,"  said  the  child  sturdily. 

"  Yes,  I  was ;  but  I  've  been  very  sorry  ever  since,  and 
I  hope  he  won't  lay  it  up  against  me,"  said  Miss  Avery, 
humbly. 

"  Oh,  indeed,  papa  will  love  you,  I  know !  Papa  is 
always  good  to  everybody  ;  and  as  full  of  fun  !  he 's  always 
making  people  laugh  and  have  good  times." 

"  He  never  told  you  what  a  cross  old  sister  I  was  ?  " 

"  Oh,  indeed,  he  did  n't !  he  said  how  you  used  to  sit  up 
with  him  and  nurse  him  when  he  was  sick." 

"Did  he  remember  that?  Well,  I  did  love  Eben, 
though  I  did  n't  always  act  like  it." 

"  I  'm  ever  so  glad,"  remarked  Blue  Eyes,  "  that  you 
are  my  aunty,  'cause  now  you  '11  come  and  live  with  us. 
You  and  I  and  Trip,  —  we  '11  live  together  ;  won't  it  be 
fun  ?  " 


288  A  DOG'S  MISSION 

Miss  Avery  laughed,  —  she  had  n't  felt  so  gleeful  for 
years,  — and  then,  when  she  had  opened  all  her  drawers 
and  all  her  cupboards,  and  showed  everything  she  had  in 
the  house,  and  answered  questions  without  end,  the  happy 
party  came  down  again  and  produced  Trip's  ball,  and  soon 
she  and  little  Blue  Eyes  and  Trip  were  engaged  in  a  real 
romp,  and  the  old  house  rang  with  peals  of  laughter  and 
barks,  and  there  was  such  scampering  and  pattering  and 
skurrying  about  as  had  n't  been  known  for  }rears.  Miss 
Avery  got  her  hair  loosened  and  her  cheeks  red,  and  laughed 
till  she  had  to  sit  down  and  hold  her  sides. 

When  tired  of  this  fun,  Miss  Avery  recovered  her  dignity, 
and  set  herself  seriously  to  getting  tea,  in  which  business 
Blue  Eyes  and  Trip  assisted  according  to  their  ability. 

The  little  round  table  was  set  in  the  keeping-room,  and 
some  nice  biscuits  were  baked  in  the  baker  before  the  fire, 
and  tea  was  made,  and  finally,  as  a  crowning  glory,  the  plate 
of  frosted  cakes,  gay  with  many-colored  sugar-plums,  was 
put  on  the  table. 

Miss  Avery  was  not  disappointed  in  the  sensation  they 
produced.  The  little  one  clapped  her  hands,  and  laughed 
and  admired,  and  Trip  barked,  and  altogether  they  had  a 
merry  time  of  it. 

They  sat  down  at  table,  with  Trip  between  them  deco 
rously  mounted  on  his  cushion,  and  Miss  Avery  said  grace, 
and  Trip  looked  as  sober  and  devout  as  if  he  had  two  legs 
instead  of  four,  a  feat  which  Blue  Eyes  warmly  commended. 

"  Trip  knows  just  how  to  behave  at  table,  don't  he  ?  "  she 
said;  "that's  because  you've  taught  him,  aunty." 

"  Yes,  Trip  is  a  good  dog,"  said  Miss  Avery  ;  "  you  see  he 
waits  till  I  fix  his  supper  for  him." 

It  was  a  joyous  tea-party,  and  full  justice  was  done  to  the 
cakes,  and  Miss  Avery  went  back  into  long  histories  of  the 
old  days  when  Eben  was  a  boy,  and  the  house  stood  on  a 
farm  far  out  from  the  city,  and  they  used  to  have  hens  and 


A  BRIGHT   SATURDAY  AFTERNOON  289 

chickens,  and  pigs  and  ducks,  and  all  sorts  of  nice  things. 
Miss  Avery  seemed  to  grow  young  again  as  she  told  the 
story. 

"  Now,  dear,  what  is  your  name  ?  "  she  said ;  "  you  never 
really  told  me  your  name." 

"  Well,  my  real  name  is  Margaret ;  but  they  call  me  lots  of 
other  things,  —  Daisy,  and  Dot,  and  Puss,  and  Mr.  Symons 
calls  me  Patty  Coram  and  Chatterbox ;  he  ?s  a  funny  man, 
Mr.  Symons  is." 

"  Margaret  —  I  knew  it  —  it  7s  mother's  name,"  said  Miss 
Avery.  "  Dear,  your  grandmother  was  a  good  woman  —  you 
are  named  after  her  —  I  hope  you  '11  be  like  her." 

When  the  sun  sank  low,  the  child  started  for  home  with 
two  cakes,  that  she  could  not  eat,  stuffed  in  her  small  pocket. 

There  were  kisses  exchanged,  and  promises  to  come  again. 
As  she  trotted  gayly  off,  Miss  Avery  gazed  after  her  till  the 
last  of  her  little  pink  dress  faded  in  the  distance. 

"  Thank  the  Lord  !  thank  the  Lord !  "  she  said.  "  He 
has  been  good  to  me." 


CHAPTER   IX 

A    JOYFUL    SUNDAY 

Miss  AVERY  woke  next  morning  with  a  vague  sense  of 
some  sudden  good  fortune,  and  gradually  the  events  of  the 
day  before  came  over  her. 

She  was  no  more  alone  in  the  world,  with  nobody  to  love 
and  nobody  loving.  She  rejoiced  in  her  little  niece  as  one 
that  findeth  great  spoil. 

She  stepped  about  alertly  getting  her  breakfast ;  she  went 
up  stairs  and  set  open  the  windows  of  Eben's  room.  The 
purple  and  white  lilacs  looked  in  inquisitively  as  to  say,  — 

" What  now?" 

"  He  Jll  come  here  ;  Eben  will  come  back  now.  Well, 
he  '11  see  I  've  kept  his  room  for  him,"  said  Miss  Avery,  as 
she  smoothed  a  wrinkle  on  the  bed  and  necked  a  little  dust 
from  the  table. 

The  first  bells  were  ringing  for  church;  to  her  they 
seemed  joy-bells  ;  and  Miss  Avery  dressed  herself  to  go  out 
with  a  light  heart.  Trip  ran  to  her  quivering  with  eager 
ness.  Miss  Avery's  heart  was  touched  for  him. 

"  Trippy,  you  poor  doggie !  1 'm  sorry,  but  I  can't  take 
you  to  church,"  she  said,  as  he  stood  wagging  his  tail,  and 
looking  eagerly  at  her.  "It's  Sunday,  Trippy,  and  you 
can't  go  to  church  with  me,  though  you  are  a  great  deal 
more  up  to  your  light  than  some  who  do  go." 

Miss  Avery  explained  this  over  to  Trippy,  but  it  did  n't 
seem  to  convince  him  ;  and  when  she  left  the  house,  he  stood 
on  his  hind  legs  at  the  window  barking  frantically. 


A   JOYFUL   SUNDAY  291 

Miss  Avery's  mind  in  sermon-time  wandered  to  her  little 
niece.  She  saw  her  blue  eyes,  and  felt  her  caresses  and 
kisses,  and  her  heart  was  glad  within  her ;  and  she  caught 
herself  in  sermon- time  projecting  how  she  would  make  some 
"  crullers,"  and  sift  sugar  over  them  for  the  child's  delecta 
tion  when  she  came  to  see  her  old  aunty. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  shall  make  an  idol  of  that  child,"  she  said 
to  herself  when  she  found  where  her  thoughts  had  been 
wandering. 

When  she  got  home  Trippy  was  outrageous  in  his  joy. 

"  It  's  worth  going  out  for,  to  have  any  cre'tur  so  glad  to 
see  one,"  she  said.  "  Ah,  Trippy  !  you  was  a  Providence. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  you,  Trippy,  she  would  n't  'a'  ben 
here,  Trippy !  Trippy !  you  've  ben  a  real  blessing  to  me. 
"Now  to-morrow  she  '11  come  again,  the  dear  little  thing ! " 

The  next  day  Miss  Avery  looked  eagerly  at  the  old  clock, 
and  counted  the  minutes  to  recess- time,  but  no  little  Blue 
Eyes  came.  She  wondered  and  waited  in  vain. 

The  solemn  old  clock  ticked  and  struck,  and  Miss  Avery 
strained  her  ears  for  the  sound  of  the  little  footsteps. 
Never  had  the  house  seemed  so  lonely  ;  but  no  little  foot 
steps  came. 

"  Why,  I  could  n't  have  believed  I  'd  V  missed  her  so," 
said  Miss  Avery  to  Trip,  and  Trip  looked  as  if  he  thought 
so,  too.  "Well,  she'll  be  here  to-morrow,  anyway,"  she 
said,  as  she  lay  down  to  sleep  at  night. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHERE    IS    BLUE    EYES  ? 

BUT  to-morrow  came  and  told  the  same  story,  —  no  little 
girl.  Miss  Avery  lay  awake  at  night  wondering  and  wish 
ing  she  knew  ;  but  when  the  third  day  passed,  and  she  did 
not  come,  Miss  Avery  put  on  her  bonnet  and  marched  up 
to  Mr.  Symons's,  and  knocked  at  the  front  door,  and  in 
quired  for  Mrs.  Symons. 

That  good  lady,  a  little  fat  easy  woman,  appeared,  for 
some  cause,  agitated  and  worried. 

Miss  Avery  was  a  very  square,  direct,  exact  sort  of  a 
person,  in  her  dealings,  and  never  wasted  words,  so  she 
came  to  the  point  directly. 

"  Good  -morning,  Mrs.  Symons,"  she  said.  "I  came  to 
inquire  for  my  brother's  little  girl." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Symons,  "  then  you  know  ?  Well,  I 
declare !  I  told  Mr.  Symons  you  ought  to  know ;  but 
dear  me  !  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  all  do.  She  's  taken 
down  with  scarlet  fever  —  got  it  at  school,  I  s'pose  —  taken 
Monday  morning  —  I  expect  she  sat  by  some  child  that  had 
it  in  school  or  Sunday-school ;  any  rate  she's  got  it,  and 
we  don't  know  where  to  look  for  a  nurse." 

Miss  Avery  here  interposed  briefly,  — 

"  /  will  come  and  nurse  her.  It 's  my  place.  I  will 
take  care  of  her." 

"  Oh,  you  will  ?  Well,  if  you  feel  able.  I  ain't  used 
to  sickness,  you  see,  and  I "  — 

"  I  am  used  to  sickness,"  said  Miss  Avery,  briefly,  "  and 


WHERE   IS   BLUE   EYES  ?  293 

if  I  undertake  a  thing,  I  do  it.  I'll  just  go  home  and 
take  my  things  and  lock  up  the  house  and  be  here  in  an 
hour.  I  shall  have  to  hring  my  little  Trip  with  me.  I 
can't  leave  him  alone  in  the  house ;  but  he  never  makes 
any  trouble,  and  she 's  fond  of  him,  and  loves  to  have  him 
round." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Symons,  "  we  '11  do  the  best  we  can." 

"  And  I  shall  do  the  best  I  can,"  said  Miss  Avery,  reso 
lutely. 

And  in  a  few  hours  she  was  established  at  the  bedside 
of  her  little  patient,  with  her  old-fashioned  watch  on  the 
stand,  and  her  gargles  and  medicines  all  arranged  in  order, 
with  a  soft  pair  of  list  shoes  upon  her  feet,  the  very  image 
of  regularity,  neatness,  and  order. 

The  little  one  woke  from  a  heavy  sleep,  opened  her  eyes 
and  smiled. 

"  You  here,  aunty  ?  "  she  said,  and  she  reached  her  arms 
up  to  her ;  and  Aunt  Avery  stooped  down  and  kissed  her 
once  and  again. 

"  I  'm  so  glad  you  've  come  !  "  said  the  child.  "  My 
throat  hurts  me  so,  and  I  'm  so  hot !  " 

"  I  came  to  help  you,  darling.  I  '11  take  care  of  you  till 
you  are  well  again." 

The  child  dozed  off  in  a  heavy  stupor.  After  a  while, 
Miss  Avery  put  a  spoonful  of  the  rose-leaf  gargle  in  her 
mouth,  and  she  woke  again,  and  looked  earnestly  at  Miss 
Avery. 

"  I  'd  like  to  go  to  heaven  sometime"  she  broke  out ; 
abut  I  don't  want  to  go  now.  I  want  to  see  papa  and 
mamma  again." 

"Yes  indeed,  darling;  I  trust  you  will,"  said  Miss 
Avery,  who  felt  her  heart  sink  within  her  at  the  very  sug 
gestion. 

"  Have  you  brought  Trip  ?  "  faintly  whispered  the  child. 

"  Oh  yes ;  here  he  is,"   said  Miss   Avery.      And  sure 


294  A   DOG'S   MISSION 

enough,  Trip,  standing  on  his  hind  legs,  was  gazing  on  his 
little  playmate,  with  his  great  soft  eyes  full  of  sympathy. 
She  smiled  faintly,  and  reached  her  little  hand.  He  licked 
it,  and  she  laughed.  "  It  tickles/7  she  said.  "  Let  him 
stay  where  I  can  see  him,"  she  added ;  and  so  Trip  had  his 
cushion  put  in  a  chair  by  her  bedside,  where  he  conducted 
himself  in  a  sympathizing  and  Christian  manner,  restrain 
ing  his  natural  impetuosity,  and  behaving  with  the  utmost 
quietness. 

Now  and  then  he  would  step  gently  and  softly  on  the 
bed,  and  steal  up  and  put  his  cold  nose  to  the  little  hot 
face  ;  and  then  she  woke  from  her  feverish  stupor,  and 
said,  "  Dear  Trippy,  is  that  you  ?  " 

"  The  cre'tur  knows  something  is  the  matter  as  well  as  I 
do,"  said  Miss  Avery. 

Something  was  the  matter,  and  a  very  grave  something  ; 
for  the  disease  was  of  a  virulent  type,  and  for  days  and 
nights  it  was  uncertain  how  it  would  go  with  the  child. 
Miss  Avery  was  every  moment  at  her  post. 

She  had  all  her  life  been  combating  dust,  dirt,  disorder, 
rats,  and  flies ;  but  now  she  was  in  a  more  awful  combat, 
—  fighting  hand-to-hand  with  death  ! 

One  night  the  symptoms  grew  worse.  The  hands  and 
feet  of  the  little  sufferer  became  cold  as  ice,  and  the  doctor 
said  that  if  there  was  no  rallying  she  could  not  live  till 
morning. 

Miss  Avery  was  grimly  resolute  and  watchful,  and  inces 
sant  in  her  care,  but  there  was  a  dreadful  sinking  in  her 
heart. 

"  I  can't  — I  can't  spare  her,  —  oh,  I  can't !  "  she  said ; 
and  then  there  came  into  her  head  a  verse  she  sung  every 
week  at  prayer-meeting :  — 

"The  dearest  idol  I  have  known, 

Whate'er  that  idol  be, 
Help  me  to  tear  it  from  thy  throne, 
And  worship  only  thee." 


WHEKE  IS   BLUE   EYES  ?  295 

"  Oh,  I  can't  —  I  can't  say  that !  "  she  said.  She  turned 
in  a  sort  of  blind  way,  and  opened  a  Bible  and  read,  — 

"  My  daughter  is  even  now  dead,  but  come  and  lay  thine, 
hand  on  her,  and  she  shall  live" 

She  fell  on  her  knees,  rested  her  head  on  the  bed,  and 
cried  out,  — 

"  O  Jesus,  help  me  —  help  me  !  I  can't  give  her  up  !  " 
It  was  a  paroxysm,  a  rush  of  the  whole  soul ;  and  a  moment 
after,  the  words  passed  through  her  mind,  as  if  a  gentle 
voice  had  spoken  them,  — 

"/  will  come  and  heal  her." 

She  rose  again,  with  a  strange  new  sense  of  relief  and 
trust.  It  was  as  if  she  had  indeed  touched  the  hem  of  His 
garment. 

She  bent  over  the  child,  and  felt  her  hands  ;  they  were 
warmer  ;  a  little  moisture  stood  on  her  forehead ;  she  looked 
better.  The  tide  of  life  had  passed  the  lowest  ebb,  and  was 
beginning  to  flow  back,  and  by  morning  there  was  a  decided 
improvement.  "  Well,  Miss  Avery,  you  7ve  fought  it  out 
bravely,"  said  the  doctor,  when  he  felt  the  child's  pulse  in 
the  morning.  "  I  think  we  shall  keep  her.  The  crisis  is 
over,  and,  with  good  nursing  like  yours,  we  shall  have  her 
on  her  feet  in  a  week." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    THANKSGIVING    DINNER 

THE  telegram  that  was  to  have  summoned  Eben  Avery 
to  the  bedside  of  his  little  daughter  missed  him,  coming  one 
hour  after  he  had  left  the  place  of  address.  It  was  not  till 
the  danger  was  over,  and  recovery  fairly  established,  that 
he  heard  of  the  child's  state.  Then  he  and  his  wife  hurried 
to  Hindford. 

Miss  Avery  was  sitting  in  the  well-ordered  room,  with 
her  little  patient  in  her  lap. 

For  the  first  time  the  child  had  been  dressed  that  day  in 
her  ordinary  clothes,  and  was  reposing  after  the  fatigue  in 
those  fond,  faithful  old  arms  that  had  borne  her  through 
her  sickness. 

"  Here  she  is  !  "  said  a  voice  outside  the  chamber  door, 
and  immediately  a  stout,  cheery,  middle-aged  man  had  his 
arms  round  both  of  them,  and  was  kissing  both  indiscrim 
inately. 

"Eben!  Eben!"  "Sister!77  "Papa!77  "Mamma!77 
were  the  sounds  that  rose  all  together,  and  then  a  pretty 
little  woman  claimed  her  share,  and  kissed  both  Miss  Avery 
and  the  child. 

It  was  a  confused,  laughing,  crying,  joyful  sort  of  meet 
ing,  and  Trip  barked  distractedly,  not  knowing  what  to 
make  of  it. 

"There,  now,  let's  sit  down  and  be  quiet,77  said  Eben 
Avery.  "We  nmstn7t  make  such  a  racket  among  us. 
Come,  Sister  Zarviah,  let  me  take  her  a  minute."  And 


THE   THANKSGIVING  DINNER  297 

Miss  Avery  put  the  little  one  into  his  arms,  and  her  face 
for  the  moment  was  radiant  with  its  expression  of  tender 
feeling. 

"  There,  Eben,"  she  said,  "  I  've  kept  her  for  you ;  now 
you  '11  forgive  my  being  cross  to  you." 

"  Forgive  you,  my  dear  old  soul !  Why,  that  's  a  pretty 
story !  What  have  I  to  forgive  ?  Were  n't  you  always 
the  most  painstaking  creature  that  ever  was  ?  and  I  was 
enough  to  tire  the  patience  of  Job  himself.  My  wife, 
there,  will  tell  you  what  a  fiery  trial  I  am." 

"  0  papa,  you  are  not !  "  said  the  little  one. 

"  Shut  up,  Pussy  ;  you  must  n't  talk  !  You  '11  get  a  re 
lapse,  or  something.  We  ought  not  to  have  come  in  on 
you  so  suddenly  ;  but  there  !  it 's  just  like  me.  I  could  n't 
help  it.  I  'm  the  same  noisy,  careless  fellow." 

"  Dear  sister,"  said  the  beautiful  lady,  her  eyes  filling 
with  tears,  "I  don't  know  what  I  can  ever  say  to  thank 
you!" 

"  Oh,  don't  say  anything,"  said  Miss  Avery.  "  I  did 
it  because  I  wanted  to.  I  loved  her.  She  's  the  dearest 
little  thing !  and  the  Lord 's  given  her  back.  I  felt 
when  she  was  so  low  —  that  —  if  she  died,  I  should  die, 
too  !  " 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Eben,  "  you  shan't  either  of  you  die 
now  !  and  we  '11  all  live  together  in  peace,  and  plenty,  and 
prosperity." 

The  last  scene  in  our  story  is  a  Thanksgiving  dinner 
at  the  old  Avery  house. 

There  were  present  at  table  Mr.  Eben  Avery  and  his 
wife,  our  little  Blue  Eyes,  Miss  Avery,  and  Trip,  —  Trip, 
with  a  fine  new  collar,  with  a  little  silver  bell  upon  it. 
Miss  Avery  presided,  attired  in  a  new  black  India  satin 
which  Eben  had  brought  to  her  from  California,  and  a 
thread-lace  cap  which  Eben's  wife  had  trimmed  with  her 
own  fair  hands. 


298  A  DOG'S  MISSION 

"Now  this  seems  like  old  times/'  said  Eben,  looking 
cheerily  round.  "  Nobody  like  you,  Sister  Zarviah,  for  get 
ting  up  a  Thanksgiving  dinner  !  " 

Miss  Avery  confessed  that  she  had  given  her  mind  to 
this  one,  and  that  she  was  relieved  that  the  turkey  had 
"browned  just  right."  Perfection  in  one  thing,  at  least, 
had  been  reached. 

"And  now,  Zarviah,  since  this  is  the  last  of  the  old 
Avery  house,  let 's  have  a  rousing  good  time  in  it,'7  said 
Eben.  "  Give  Trip  all  the  turkey  he  wants,  and  Pussy  all 
the  pie,  and  let  me  talk  nonsense  much  as  I  ?ve  a  mind 
to." 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Avery  ;  "  Trip  ought  to  have  his 
share  of  our  Thanksgiving,  for  he 's  been  a  good  Providence 
to  me.  I  was  getting  crusty  and  cross,  and  frozen  up,  and 
didn't  care  for  anybody  till  Trip  got  me  to  caring  for 
him." 

"  And  then,  auntie,  I  came  after  Trip,  and  you  got  to 
loving  me,  did  n't  you,  auntie  ?  " 

"  That  I  did,"  said  Miss  Avery,  heartily. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  wife,"  said  Eben,  "  I  ?m  going  to 
build  the  finest  house  in  Hindford  on  this  very  spot,  and 
I  'm  going  to  build  Zarviah's  room  just  to  suit  her,  with  all 
sorts  of  cupboards  and  closets  and  squirrel-holes  for  her  to 
put  all  her  precious  things  in,  and  she  shall  have  a  keeping- 
room  with  all  the  old  things  in  it  that  are  here ;  and  we  '11 
keep  the  old  lilacs  to  look  in  at  the  chamber  windows,  and 
Zarviah  won't  know  but  what  she  's  living  in  the  old  house, 
only  there  '11  be  no  leaks,  and  no  rats,  and  no  cockroaches ; 
and  Zarviah  shall  have  it  all  her  own  way  in  her  part  of 
the  house." 

"  Well, I  shall  stay  in  auntie's  part;  I  know  I  shall  like 
it  best.  She  always  lets  me  do  just  what  I  want  to." 

"There,  Zarviah,  you'll  just  spoil  that  child,"  said 
Eben. 


THE   THANKSGIVING  DINNER  299 

"  She  can't  be  spoiled/'  said  Miss  A  very,  sententiously. 

"  At  any  rate/'  said  the  little  lady,  "  Trip  and  I  know 
we  shall  have  good  times  with  auntie,  don't  we,  Trippy  ?  " 
Trip  barked  his  assent ;  and  so  ends  the  story  of  a  dog's 
mission. 


LULU'S  PUPIL 

LITTLE  Miss  Lulu  was  tired  of  all  her  dolls,  —  and  she 
had  a  good  many  dolls  to  be  tired  of.  There  was  the  big 
china  doll  with  blue  eyes  and  light  flaxen  hair  ;  and  there 
was  the  pink  wax  doll  with  a  curly  golden  wig  ;  and  there 
was  the  little  china  doll  dressed  like  a  boy,  and  the  black 
china  doll  with  a  red  petticoat  that  waited  on  the  white  lady 
dolls ;  and  there  was  the  doll  that  could  open  and  shut  its 
eyes,  and  the  doll  that  could  say  "  Mamma  ;  "  in  fact,  there 
were  about  a  dozen  more  that  I  cannot  now  enumerate,  but 
Lulu  had  become  tired  of  them  all.  "  I  want  a  real  live 
doll,"  she  said. 

So  one  day  her  mamma  brought  her  home  a  pet.  It  was  a 
little  Spitz  puppy  named  Muff.  His  hair  was  long  and  sil 
very  white,  he  had  bright  black  eyes,  and  the  prettiest  pink 
tongue  in  the  world,  and  was  about  the  j  oiliest  little  dog 
that  could  be  bought  for  any  money.  He  was  called  Muff 
because  he  looked,  when  set  down  upon  the  carpet,  very  much 
like  a  little  white  muff  running  about  on  four  little  white 
stumpy  legs  ;  and  the  moment  he  was  put  down  in  the  par 
lor  he  trotted  about  smelling  at  everything  he  could  find. 
He  smelt  of  the  curtains,  of  the  chairs,  of  the  ottomans,  and 
ran  his  nose  all  along  the  side  of  the  room,  which  is  a  dog's 
way  of  taking  an  observation. 

Lulu  was  delighted.  This  was  a  pet  worth  having.  Her 
dolls,  she  thought,  were  stupid.  They  never  did  anything ; 
they  never  moved  unless  she  moved  them ;  the  doll  that 
could  open  and  shut  its  eyes  never  did  open  or  shut  them 
except  just  while  Lulu  pulled  the  wire,  and  Lulu  got  tired 


LULU'S  PUPIL  301 

of  pulling  the  wire.  But  no  sooner  was  Mr.  Muff  set  down 
on  his  four  paws  in  the  corner  than  he  began  such  a  whisk 
and  scamper  that  it  made  lively  times  for  Lulu.  Kound 
and  round  he  ran,  snuffing  at  this  thing  and  at  that,  and 
barking  with  a  short,  quick  snap,  like  the  letting  off  of  a 
pistol. 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  "  said  Lulu's  mamma,  "  what  shall  we  do 
if  that  dog  is  going  to  bark  so  ?  It  goes  through  my  head 
like  a  knife.  Lulu,  if  you  are  going  to  have  Muff  for  your 
dog,  you  must  teach  him  not  to  bark." 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,  mamma/7  said  Lulu,  "  1 '11  teach  him  ;  " 
and  so  she  sat  down  on  the  ottoman  and  took  Muff  in  her 
lap  to  instruct  him  how  to  behave. 

Muff  had  been  racing,  so  that  his  little  pink  tongue  hung 
like  a  ribbon  out  of  his  mouth,  and  Miss  Lulu  proceeded  to 
fan  him  in  order  to  cool  him,  as  she  said,  — 

"  Now,  Muffie  dear,  you  must  remember  you  are  fmy  dog 
now,  and  I  must  teach  you  exactly  how  to  behave.  You 
must  n't  bark  out  loud  in  the  parlors,  Muffie ;  do  you 
hear  ?  " 

Just  then  the  door-bell  rang,  and  down  jumped  Muffie, 
and  "  whack,  whack,  whack  "  went  his  sharp  little  bark. 

It  was  Miss  Marabout  and  Miss  Tulleport  come  in  all 
their  best  flowers  and  feathers  and  silk  dresses  to  call  on 
mamma. 

In  vain  did  Lulu  try  to  stop  Muff;  she  could  not  catch 
him.  He  ran  "  whack,  whack,  whacking,"  now  here  and 
now  there,  under  Miss  Marabout's  silk  trail  and  over  Miss 
Tulleport's  new  satin,  and  made  such  a  din  and  confusion 
that  nobody  could  hear  anybody  else  speak. 

"  Jennie,  you  must  take  that  dog  and  shut  him  up  in  the 
nursery,"  said  mamma  ;  and  away  Muff  was  carried  in  deep 
disgrace,  barking  like  a  pocket-pistol  all  the  way. 

"  0  dear  me,  Muffie,  what  a  bad  dog  you  are  !  "  said  little 
Miss  Lulu,  who  came  trailing  up-stairs  after  him,  "  to  bark 


302  LULU'S  PUPIL 

so  just  after  I  talked  to  you  so  nicely,  and  told  you  just 
how  to  behave.'7 

Well,  that  was  not  the  worst  scrape  that  Muff  got  his 
young  mistress  into.  He  was,  to  tell  the  truth,  the  most 
mischievous  little  wretch  that  ever  wore  dog-skin.  What  do 
you  think  of  this  ?  One  day  it  was  decided  that  Lulu  was 
to  go  with  a  whole  party  of  children  to  a  picnic  in  the  coun 
try.  Her  mamma  had  just  finished  for  her  a  smart  little 
cambric  dress  to  wear  on  the  occasion,  and  when  Lulu  went 
to  bed  it  was  laid  out  on  a  chair  that  she  might  put  it  on  in 
the  morning. 

But,  alas !  in  the  morning  there  was  no  dress  to  be  seen, 
and  after  great  searching  and  wondering  it  was  found  under 
the  bed  in  Mr.  Muff's  possession.  Muff  was  shaking  it 
about  in  his  mouth,  and  had  torn  and  mangled  it  so  that  it 
was  not  fit  to  be  seen.  In  fact,  he  had  chewed  up  and  swal 
lowed  half  the  front  breadth,  so  that  there  was  no  possibil 
ity  of  mending  it. 

Lulu  wept  bitterly  over  the  spoiled  dress,  and  all  the 
more  that  it  was  spoiled  by  her  new  favorite.  It  was  agreed 
that  Muff  should  be  put  into  solitary  confinement  while  she 
went  to  the  picnic.  So  Muff  was  locked  into  a  closet,  and 
Lulu  went  off  with  her  tears  dried,  and  an  old  dress  in  place 
of  the  new  one  she  had  expected  to  wear. 

Arrived  on  the  picnic  ground,  who  should  appear,  fresh 
and  noisy,  but  Master  Muff  ?  He  had  jumped  out  of  the 
closet  window  and  followed  his  mistress,  determined  to  see 
some  of  the  fun. 

This  is  only  one  specimen  of  the  mischief  that  Muff  was 
always  doing.  He  used  to  run  away  with  Lulu's  shoes  and 
stockings,  and  chew  them  to  a  paste ;  he  used  to  tear  her  rib 
bons  to  shreds,  and,  when  nothing  else  came  to  hand,  would 
attack  the  books  and  newspapers,  shaking  and  worrying  them 
till  they  were  all  in  tatters. 

Every  day  Maggie  or  Susan  came  down  to  mamma  with 


303 

some  new  story  of  Muff's  naughty  doings.  He  had  torn  the 
window-curtains,  he  had  chewed  off  a  corner  of  a  sheet,  he 
had  scratched  and  pawed  off  the  fringe  from  the  ottoman. 
"  What  shall  we  do  with  the  creature  ?  "  said  mamma. 
"I  ;m  sure  I  never  would  have  bought  him  had  I  known 
what  a  trouble  he  would  be." 

"  He  will  have  to  be  sent  away  if  he  don't  mind/'  said 
papa. 

But  the  moment  papa  spoke  of  sending  Muff  away,  Lulu's 
great  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  her  lips  trembled,  and 
she  seemed  so  broken-hearted  that  papa  said,  "  Well,  well, 
we  '11  try  him  a  little  longer." 

Then  how  hard  Lulu  tried  to  make  Muffie  comprehend 
the  situation  !  She  would  take  him  into  her  lap  and  preach 
to  him  gravely  :  "  Now  you  see,  Muffie,  I  love  you,  and  I 
don't  want  you  sent  off ;  but  if  you  go  on  so  they  will  send 
you  'way,  'way  off,  where  you  '11  never,  never  see  me  any 
more.  Would  n't  that  make  you  feel  bad,  Muffie  ?  " 

Muffie  would  sit  with  his  head  very  much  on  one  side, 
and  his  tongue  like  a  pink  streamer  hanging  out  of  his 
mouth,  and  listen  with  a  waggish  air  to  all  his  mistress's 
instructions,  showing  just  about  as  much  feeling  as  some 
little  boys  and  girls  do  when  their  mammas  tell  them  of 
what  may  happen  to  them  when  they  grow  up  if  they  do 
not  heed  their  counsel. 

"  The  fact  is,"  Muff  seemed  to  say,  "  I  have  always  been 
a  pretty  lucky  dog,  and  I  don't  believe  anything  very  bad 
will  happen  to  me." 

Muff  liked  very  much  to  trot  about  with  his  little  mis 
tress  when  she  went  out  for  a  walk.  Then  he  would  cock 
his  ears  and  tail,  and  pad  along  as  important  as  possible. 
He  would  run  and  bark  at  every  cat  and  dog  or  hen  and 
chicken  in  his  way,  and  seemed  delighted  to  keep  every 
thing  about  him  in  a  flutter. 

People  scolded  a  great  deal,  and  some  even  threatened  to 


304  LULU'S  PUPIL 

shoot  him ;  but  when  little  Lulu  came  in  sight  with  her 
blue  eyes  and  golden  hair  they  concluded  to  let  him  go  for 
her  sake. 

Muff  wanted  very  much  to  go  to  church  Sundays.  He- 
went  everywhere  else  with  Lulu,  and  why  he  was  shut  up 
to  private  meditation  on  Sundays  was  a  thing  he  could  not 
understand.  So  he  would  watch  his  opportunity  arid  slip 
out  of  a  door  or  window,  and  trot  off  to  church,  and  to 
Lulu's  astonishment  appear  suddenly  in  the  broad  aisle. 
Once  he  even  went  up  and  sat  in  the  chancel  as  grave  and 
innocent  as  possible.  Lulu's  heart  was  in  her  mouth  when 
the  sexton  put  him  out,  and  she  had  to  leave  church  to  go 
home  with  him. 

"  How  often  must  I  tell  you,  Muffie,  church  is  n't  for 
dogs  ? "  she  said,  when  she  got  him  safe  home.  "  You 
may  go  everywhere  else  with  me,  but  you  mustn't  go  to 
church  !  " 

Muffie  could  not  speak,  but  his  eyes  said,  "  Why  must  n't 
I  ?  "  as  plainly  as  the  thing  could  be  spoken. 

However,  on  reflection,  Muff  thought  he  had  found  out  a 
way  to  manage  the  matter.  He  waited  till  everybody  was 
in  church  one  Sunday,  and  then  jumped  out  of  the  pantry 
window  and  trotted  off  to  meeting.  He  took  possession  of 
a  deserted  slip  near  the  door,  and,  mounting  the  seat,  sat  up 
as  grave  as  a  judge,  and  seemed  resolved  to  show  that  a  dog 
could  act  like  a  good  Christian. 

For  a  while  all  went  on  very  well,  and  nobody  noticed 
that  he  was  there  ;  but  at  last  a  great  bluebottle  fly  whizzed 
down  into  his  face,  when  "  whack  "  came  out  Muff's  short 
bark.  Everybody  looked  round,  and  Muff  barked  again  ; 
then  Lulu  got  up  and  ran  down  the  aisle  just  as  the  sexton 
seized  him. 

"  Oh,  please  don't  do  anything  to  him !  "  said  Lulu. 
"  You  know  he 's  only  a  dog  ;  I  try  to  teach  him  so  hard, 
but  he  won't  learn." 


LULU'S  PUPIL  305 

The  sexton  smiled  on  the  little  maiden,  and  she  took  her 
pet  home. 

"  Muffie,  Mufne,  what  trouble  you  do  make  me  ! "  she 
said  ;  "  but  yet  I  love  you,  and  I  would  n't  have  you  sent 
off  for  the  world." 

Since  then  little  Lulu  has  grown  a  bigger  girl,  and  Muff 
has  grown  an  older  and  a  soberer  dog.  He  no  longer  chews 
up  her  shoes  and  stockings,  and  he  has  learned  to  spend 
Sundays  in  private  reflection,  but  he  never  will  learn  not  to 
bark.  Little  by  little,  however,  people  have  become  used 
to  his  noise;  and  like  him  in  spite  of  it. 


THE  DAISY'S  FIEST  WINTER 

SOMEWHERE  in  a  garden  of  this  earth,  which  the  dear 
Lord  has  planted  with  many  flowers  of  gladness,  grew  a 
fresh,  bright  little  daisy. 

The  first  this  little  daisy  knew,  she  found  herself  grow 
ing  in  green  pastures  and  beside  the  still  waters  where  the 
Heavenly  Shepherd  was  leading  his  sheep.  And  very  beau 
tiful  did  life  look  to  her,  as  her  bright  little  eyes,  with  their 
crimson  lashes,  opened  and  looked  down  into  the  deep  crys 
tal  waters  of  the  brook  below,  where  the  sunshine  made 
every  hour  more  sparkles,  more  rings  of  light,  and  more 
brilliant  glances  and  changes  of  color,  than  all  the  jewelers 
in  the  world  could  imitate.  She  knew  intimately  all  the 
yellow-birds  and  meadow-larks  and  bobolinks  and  black 
birds,  that  sang,  piped,  whistled,  or  chattered  among  the 
bushes  and  trees  in  the  pasture,  and  she  was  a  prime  favo 
rite  with  them  all. 

Multitudes  of  beautiful  flowers  grew  up  in  the  water,  or 
on  the  moist  edges  of  the  brook.  There  were  green  arrow 
heads,  which  in  their  time  gave  forth  their  white  blossoms 
with  a  little  gold  ball  in  the  centre  of  each ;  and  the  pick 
erel-weed,  with  its  thick,  sharp,  green  leaf,  and  its  sturdy 
spike  of  blue  blossoms  ;  and  the  tall  meadow-grass,  with  its 
graceful  green  tassels  hanging  down  and  making  wavy 
reflections  in  the  water  ;  and  there  was  the  silver-weed, 
whose  leaves  as  they  dipped  in  the  brook  seemed  to  be  of 
molten  silver,  and  whose  tall  heads  of  fringy  white  blos 
soms  sent  forth  a  grateful  perfume  in  the  air ;  and  there, 
too,  were  the  pink  and  white  azalias,  full  of  sweetness  and 


THE  DAISY'S  FIRST  WINTER  307 

beauty,  and  close  along  in  the  green  mosses  of  the  banks 
grew  blue  and  white  violets,  and  bloodroot,  with  its  silvery 
stars  of  blossom  ;  and  the  purple  hepatica,  with  its  quaint 
hairy  leaves ;  and  the  slender  wind-flower  on  its  thread 
like  stem ;  and  the  crowfoot,  with  its  dark  bronze  leaf  and 
its  half-shut  flower,  looking  like  the  outside  of  a  pink  sea- 
shell. 

These  beautiful  blooming  things  did  not  all  blossom 
at  once,  but  had  their  graceful  changes ;  and  there  was 
always  a  pleasant  flutter  of  expectation  among  them,  — 
either  a  sending  forth  of  leaves,  or  a  making  of  buds,  or  a 
bursting  out  into  blossoms  ;  and  when  the  blossoms  passed 
away,  there  was  a  thoughtful,  careful  maturing  of  seeds,  all 
packed  away  so  snugly  in  their  little  coffers  and  caskets  of 
seed-pods,  which  were  of  every  quaint  and  dainty  shape 
that  ever  could  be  fancied  for  a  lady's  jewel-box.  Over 
head  there  grew  a  wide-spreading  apple-tree,  which  in  the 
month  of  June  became  a  gigantic  bouquet,  holding  up  to 
the  sun  a  million  silvery  opening  flowers,  and  a  million 
pink-tipped  buds ;  and  the  little  winds  would  come  to  play 
in  its  branches,  and  take  the  pink  shells  of  the  blossoms 
for  their  tiny  air-boats,  in  which  they  would  go  floating 
round  among  the  flowers,  or  sail  on  voyages  of  discovery 
down  the  stream  ;  and  when  the  time  of  its  blossom  was 
gone,  the  bountiful  tree  from  year  to  year  had  matured 
fruits  of  golden  ripeness  which  cheered  the  hearts  of  men. 

Little  Daisy's  life  was  only  one  varied  delight  from  day 
to  day.  She  had  a  hundred  playmates  among  the  light- 
winged  winds,  that  came  to  her  every  hour  to  tell  her  what 
was  going  on  all  over  the  green  pasture,  and  to  bring  her 
sweet  perfumed  messages  from  the  violets  and  anemones  of 
even  the  more  distant  regions. 

There  was  not  a  ring  of  sunlight  that  danced  in  the 
golden  network  at  the  bottom  of  the  brook  that  did  not 
bring  a  thrill  of  gladness  to  her  heart;  not  a  tiny  fish 


308  THE  DAISY'S  FIKST  WINTER 

glided  in  his  crystal  paths,  or  played  and  frolicked  under 
the  water-lily  shadows,  that  was  not  a  well-known  friend 
of  hers,  and  whose  pleasures  she  did  not  share.  At  night 
she  held  conferences  with  the  dew-drops  that  stepped  about 
among  the  flowers  in  their  bright  pearl  slippers,  and  washed 
their  leaves  and  faces  before  they  went  to  rest.  Nice  little 
nurses  and  dressing-maids  these  dews!  and  they  kept 
tender  guard  all  night  over  the  flowers,  watching  and 
blinking  wakefully  to  see  that  all  was  safe ;  but  when  the 
sun  arose,  each  of  them  spread  a  pair  of  little  rainbow 
wings,  and  was  gone. 

To  be  sure,  there  were  some  reverses  in  her  lot.  Some 
times  a  great  surly,  ill-looking  cloud  would  appear  in  the 
sky,  like  a  cross  schoolmaster,  and  sweep  up  all  the  sun 
beams,  and  call  in  a  gruff  voice  to  the  little  winds,  her 
playfellows,  to  come  away  from  their  nonsense ;  and  then 
he  would  send  a  great  strong  wind  down  on  them  all,  with 
a  frightful  noise,  and  roar,  and  sweep  all  the  little  flowers 
flat  to  the  earth  ;  and  there  would  be  a  great  rush  and  pat 
tering  of  rain-drops,  and  bellowing  of  thunders,  and  sharp 
forked  lightnings  would  quiver  through  the  air  as  if  the 
green  pastures  certainly  were  to  be  torn  to  pieces  ;  but  in 
about  half  an  hour  it  would  be  all  over,  —  the  sunbeams 
would  all  dance  out  from  their  hiding-places,  just  as  good 
as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  the  little  winds  would 
come  laughing  back,  and  each  little  flower  would  lift  itself 
up,  and  the  winds  would  help  them  to  shake  off  the  wet 
and  plume  themselves  as  jauntily  as  if  nothing  had  gone 
amiss.  Daisy  had  the  greatest  pride  and  joy  in  her  own 
pink  blossoms,  of  which  there  seemed  to  be  an  inexhausti 
ble  store  ;  for,  as  fast  as  one  dropped  its  leaves,  another 
was  ready  to  open  its  eyes,  and  there  were  buds  of  every 
size,  waiting  still  to  come  on,  even  down  to  little  green 
cushions  of  buds  that  lay  hidden  away  in  the  middle  of  the 
leaves  down  close  to  the  root.  "  How  favored  I  am !  " 


THE   DAISY'S  FIRST  WINTER  309 

said  Daisy ;  "  I  never  stop  blossoming.  The  anemones 
and  the  liverwort  and  the  bloodroot  have  their  time,  but 
then  they  stop  and  have  only  leaves,  while  I  go  on  bloom 
ing  perpetually  ;  how  nice  it  is  to  be  made  as  I  am  ! " 

"  But  you  must  remember/'  said  a  great  rough  Burdock 
to  her,  —  "  you  must  remember  that  your  winter  must 
come  at  last,  when  all  this  fine  blossoming  will  have  to  be 
done  with." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Daisy,  in  a  tone  of  pride, 
eyeing  her  rough  neighbor  with  a  glance  of  disgust.  "  You 
are  a  rough,  ugly  old  thing,  and  that  's  why  you  are  cross. 
Pretty  people  like  me  can  afford  to  be  good-natured." 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  Dame  Burdock,  "  you  '11  see.  It 's  a 
pretty  thing  if  a  young  chit  just  out  from  seed  this  year 
should  be  impertinent  to  me,  who  have  seen  twenty  win 
ters,  —  yes,  and  been  through  them  well,  too  !  " 

"  Tell  me,  Bobolink,"  said  Daisy,  "  is  there  any  truth 
in  what  this  horrid  Burdock  has  been  saying  ?  What  does 
she  mean  by  winter  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  —  not  I,"  said  Bobolink,  as  he  turned  a 
dozen  somersets  in  the  air,  and  then  perched  himself  airily 
on  a  thistle-head,  singing,  — 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care  ; 
It 's  mighty  pleasant  to  fly  up  there, 
And  it 's  mighty  pleasant  to  light  down  here, 
And  all  I  know  is  chip,  chip,  cheer." 

"  Say,  Humming-bird,  do  you  know  anything  about 
winter  ?  " 

"  Winter  ?  I  never  saw  one,"  said  Humming-bird ; 
"  we  have  wings,  and  follow  summer  round  the  world,  and 
where  she  is,  there  go  we." 

"  Meadow-lark,  Meadow-lark,  have  you  ever  heard  of 
winter  ?  "  said  Daisy. 

Meadow-lark  was  sure  he  never  remembered  one.  "  What 
is  winter  ?  "  he  said,  looking  confused. 


310  THE   DAISY'S   FIRST   WINTER 

"  Butterfly,  Butterfly,"  said  Daisy,  "  come,  tell  me,  will 
there  be  winter,  and  what  is  winter  ?  " 

But  the  Butterfly  laughed,  and  danced  up  and  down,  and 
said,  "  What  is  Daisy  talking  about  ?  I  never  heard  of 
winter.  Winter  ?  ha  !  ha  !  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Then  it  's  only  one  of  Burdock's  spiteful  sayings," 
said  Daisy.  "  Just  because  she  is  n't  pretty,  she  wants  to 
spoil  my  pleasure  too.  Say,  dear  lovely  tree  that  shades 
me  so  sweetly,  is  there  such  a  thing  as  winter  ?  " 

And  the  tree  said,  with  a  sigh  through  its  leaves,  "  Yes, 
daughter,  there  will  be  winter  ;  but  fear  not,  for  the  Good 
Shepherd  makes  both  summer  and  winter,  and  each  is  good 
in  its  time.  Enjoy  the  summer  and  fear  not." 

The  months  rolled  by.  The  violets  had  long  ago  stopped 
blooming,  their  leaves  were  turning  yellow,  but  they  had 
beautiful  green  seed-caskets,  full  of  rows  of  little  pearls, 
which  next  year  should  come  up  in  blue  violets.  The  dog- 
toothed  violet  and  the  eye-bright  had  gone  under  ground, 
so  that  no  more  was  seen  of  them,  and  Daisy  wondered 
whither  they  could  be  gone.  But  she  had  new  acquaint 
ances  far  more  brilliant,  and  she  forgot  the  others.  The 
brook-side  seemed  all  on  fire  with  golden-rod,  and  the  bright 
yellow  was  relieved  by  the  rich  purple  tints  of  the  asters, 
while  the  blue  fringed  gentian  held  up  its  cups,  that  seemed 
as  if  they  might  have  been  cut  out  of  the  sky,  —  and  still 
Daisy  had  abundance  of  leaves  and  blossoms,  and  felt  strong 
and  well  at  the  root.  Then  the  apple-tree  cast  down  to 
the  ground  its  fragrant  burden  of  golden  apples,  and  men 
came  and  carried  them  away. 

By  and  by  there  came  keen,  cutting  winds,  and  driving 
storms  of  sleet  and  hail ;  and  then  at  night  it  would  be  so 
cold,  so  cold  !  and  one  after  another  the  leaves  and  flowers 
fell  stiff  and  frozen,  and  grew  black,  and  turned  to  decay, 
The  leaves  loosened  and  fell  from  the  apple-tree,  and  sailed 
away  by  thousands  down  the  brook  j  the  butterflies  lay 


THE   DAISY'S  FIRST   WINTER  311 

dead  with  the  flowers,  but  all  the  birds  had  gone  singing 
away  to  the  sunny  south,  following  the  summer  into  other 
lands. 

"  Tell  me,  dear  tree/'  said  Daisy,  "  is  this  winter  that  is 
coming  ?  " 

"  It  is  winter,  darling,"  said  the  tree ;  "  but  fear  not. 
The  Good  Shepherd  makes  winter  as  well  as  summer." 

"  I  still  hold  my  blossoms,"  said  Daisy,  —  for  Daisy  was 
a  hardy  little  thing. 

But  the  frosts  came  harder  and  harder  every  night,  and 
first  they  froze  her  blossoms,  and  then  they  froze  her  leaves, 
and  finally  all,  all  were  gone,  —  there  was  nothing  left  but 
the  poor  little  root,  with  the  folded  leaves  of  the  future 
held  in  its  bosom. 

"  Ah,  dear  tree  !  "  said  Daisy,  "  is  not  this  dreadful !  " 

"  Be  patient,  darling,"  said  the  tree.  "  I  have  seen  many, 
many  winters ;  but  the  Good  Shepherd  loses  never  a  seed, 
never  a  root,  never  a  flower :  they  will  all  come  again." 

By  and  by  came  colder  days  and  colder,  and  the  brook 
froze  to  its  little  heart  and  stopped ;  and  then  there  came 
bitter,  driving  storms,  and  the  snow  lay  wreathed  over 
Daisy's  head ;  but  still  from  the  bare  branches  of  the 
apple-tree  came  a  voice  of  cheer.  "  Courage,  darling,  and 
patience  !  Not  a  flower  shall  be  lost :  winter  is  only  for  a 
season." 

"  It  is  so  dreary  !  "  murmured  Daisy,  deep  in  her  bosom. 

"  It  will  be  short :  the  spring  will  come  again,"  said  the 
tree. 

And  at  last  the  spring  did  come  ;  and  the  snow  melted 
and  ran  away  down  the  brook,  and  the  sun  shone  out  warm, 
and  fresh  green  leaves  jumped  and  sprang  out  of  every  dry 
twig  of  the  apple-tree.  And  one  bright,  rejoicing  day,  little 
Daisy  opened  her  eyes,  and  lo !  there  were  all  her  friends 
once  more ;  —  there  were  the  eye-brights  and  the  violets 
and  the  anemones  and  the  liverwort,  —  only  ever  so  many 


312  THE  DAISY'S  FIRST   WINTER 

more  of  them  than  there  were  last  year,  because  each  little 
pearl  of  a  seed  had  been  nursed  and  moistened  by  the  snows 
of  winter,  and  had  come  up  as  a  little  plant  to  have  its  own 
flowers.  The  birds  all  came  back,  and  began  building  their 
nests,  and  everything  was  brighter  and  fairer  than  before ; 
and  Daisy  felt  strong  at  heart,  because  she  had  been  through 
a  winter,  and  learned  not  to  fear  it.  She  looked  up  into 
the  apple-tree.  "  Will  there  be  more  winters,  dear  tree  ?  " 
she  said. 

"  Darling,  there  will ;  but  fear  not.  Enjoy  the  present 
hour,  and  leave  future  winters  to  Him  who  makes  them. 
Thou  hast  come  through  these  sad  hours,  because  the  Shep 
herd  remembered  thee.  He  loseth  never  a  flower  out  of  his 
pasture,  but  calleth  them  all  by  name  :  and  the  snow  will 
never  drive  so  cold,  or  the  wind  beat  so  hard,  as  to  hurt  one 
of  his  flowers.  And  look  !  of  all  the  flowers  of  last  year, 
what  one  is  melted  away  in  the  snow,  or  forgotten  in  the 
number  of  green  things  ?  Every  blade  of  grass  is  counted, 
and  puts  up  its  little  head  in  the  right  time  ;  so  never  fear, 
Daisy,  for  thou  shalt  blossom  stronger  and  brighter  for  the 
winter." 

"  But  why  must  there  be  winter  ?  "   said  Daisy. 

"  I  never  ask  why,"  said  the  tree.  "  My  business  is  to 
blossom  and  bear  apples.  Summer  comes,  and  I  am  joyful ; 
winter  comes,  and  I  am  patient.  But,  darling,  there  is  an 
other  garden  where  thou  and  I  shall  be  transplanted  one 
day,  where  there  shall  be  winter  no  more.  There  is  coming 
a  new  earth  ;  and  not  one  flower  or  leaf  of  these  green  pas 
tures  shall  be  wanting  there,  but  come  as  surely  as  last 
year's  flowers  come  back  this  spring !  " 


OUK  CHAELET  AND  THE  STOEIES  TOLD  HIM 
OUR  CHAELEY 

WHEN  the  blaze  of  the  wood  fire  flickers  up  and  down  in 
our  snug  evening  parlor,  there  dances  upon  the  wall  a  little 
shadow  with  a  pug  nose,  a  domestic  household  shadow  —  a 
busy  shadow  —  a  little  restless  specimen  of  perpetual  mo 
tion,  and  the  owner  thereof  is  "  Our  Charley. " 

Now,  we  should  not  write  about  him  and  his  ways,  if  he 
were  strictly  a  peculiar  and  individual  existence  of  our  own 
home  circle  ;  but  it  is  not  so.  "  Our  Charley  "  exists  in  a 
thousand,  nay,  a  million  families  ;  he  has  existed  in  millions 
in  all  time  back :  his  name  is  variously  rendered  in  all  the 
tongues  of  the  earth  ;  nay,  there  are  a  thousand  synonyms 
for  him  in  English  —  for  certainly  "  our  Willie,"  or  "  our 
Harry,"  or  "  our  Georgie,"  belongs  to  the  same  snub-nosed, 
rosy-cheeked,  restless  shadow-maker.  So  in  France,  he  is 
"  Leonce,"  or  "  Pierre,"  as  well  as  "  Charles  ;  "  in  Italy,  he 
is  "  Carlino  "  or  "  Francesco  ;  "  in  Germany,  "  Max," 
"  Carl ,"  or  "  Wilhelm  ;  "  and  in  China,  he  is  little  "  Ling- 
Fung,"  with  a  long  silk  tail  on  the  back  of  his  head, —  but 
the  same  household  sprite  among  them  all :  in  short,  we 
take  "  our  Charley  "  in  a  generic  sense,  and  we  mean  to  treat 
of  him  as  a  little  copy  of  a  grown  man  —  enacting  in  a  shad 
owy  ballet  by  the  fireside  all  that  men  act  in  earnest  in  after 
life.  He  is  a  looking-glass  for  grown  people,  in  which  they 
may  see  how  certain  things  become  them  —  in  which  they 
may  sometimes  even  see  streaks  and  gleamings  of  something 
wiser  than  all  the  harsh  conflict  of  life  teaches  them. 


314      OUR   CHAKLEY   AND    THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

"  Our  Charley  "  is  generally  considered  by  the  world  as 
an  idle  little  dog,  whose  pursuits,  being  very  unimportant, 
may  be  put  off  or  put  by  for  every  and  any  body  ;  but  the 
world,  as  usual,  is  very  much  mistaken.  "No  man  is  more 
pressed  with  business,  and  needs  more  prudence,  energy, 
tact,  and  courage  to  carry  out  his  schemes,  in  face  of  all  the 
opposing  circumstances  that  grown  people  constantly  throw 
in  his  way. 

Has  he  not  ships  to  build  and  to  sail  ?  and  has  he  not 
vast  engineerings  to  make  ponds  and  docks  in  every  puddle 
or  brook,  where  they  shall  anchor  ?  Is  not  his  pocket 
stuffed  with  materials  for  sails  and  cordage  ?  And  yet,  like 
a  man  of  the  world  as  he  is,  all  this  does  not  content  him, 
but  he  must  own  railroad  stock  too.  If  he  lives  where  a 
steam  whistle  has  vibrated,  it  has  awakened  an  unquiet 
yearning  within  him,  and  some  day  he  harnesses  all  the 
chairs  into  a  train,  and  makes  a  locomotive  of  your  work- 
table  and  a  steam  whistle  of  himself.  He  inspects  toy-shop 
windows,  gets  up  flirtations  with  benevolent  shopmen  ;  and 
when  he  gets  his  mouth  close  to  papa's  ear,  reveals  to  him 
how  Mr.  So-and-so  has  a  locomotive  that  will  wind  up  and 
go  alone  —  so  cheap  too  —  can't  papa  get  it  for  him  ?  And 
so  papa  (all  papas  do)  goes  soberly  down  and  buys  it,  though 
he  knows  it  will  be  broken  in  a  week. 

Then  what  raptures  !  The  dear  locomotive  !  the  darling 
black  chimney  sleeps  under  his  pillow  that  he  may  feel  of 
it  in  the  night,  and  be  sure  when  he  first  wakes  that  the 
joy  is  not  evaporated.  He  bores  everybody  to  death  with 
it  as  artlessly  as  grown  people  do  with  their  hobbies.  But 
at  last  the  ardor  runs  out.  His  darling  is  found  to  have 
faults.  He  picks  it  to  pieces  to  make  it  work  better  ;  finds 
too  late  that  he  can't  put  it  together  again  ;  and  so  he  casts 
it  aside,  and  makes  a  locomotive  out  of  a  broken  wheel* 
barrow  and  some  barrel  staves. 

Do  you,  my  brother,  or  grown-up  sister,  ever  do  anything 


OUK  CHARLEY  315 

like  this  ?  Do  your  friendships  and  loves  ever  go  the  course 
of  our  Charley's  toys  ?  First,  enthusiasm  ;  second,  satiety  ; 
third,  discontent ;  then  picking  to  pieces  ;  then  dropping 
and  losing?  How  many  idols  are  in  your  hox  of  by-gone 
playthings  ?  And  may  it  not  be  as  well  to  suggest  to  you, 
when  you  find  flaws  in  your  next  one,  to  inquire  before  you 
pick  to  pieces  whether  you  can  put  together  again,  or 
whether  what  you  call  defect  is  not  a  part  of  its  nature  ? 
A  tin  locomotive  won't  draw  a  string  of  parlor  chairs,  by 
any  possible  alteration,  but  it  may  be  very  pretty  for  all 
that  it  was  made  for.  Charley  and  you  might  both  learn 
something  from  this. 

Charley's  business  career,  as  we  have  before  intimated, 
has  its  trials.  It  is  hard  for  him  to  find  time  for  it ;  so 
many  impertinent  interruptions.  For  instance,  there  are 
four  hours  of  school,  taken  out  of  the  best  part  of  the  day  ; 
four  mortal  hours,  in  which  he  might  make  ships,  or  build 
dams,  or  run  railroad  cars,  he  is  obliged  to  leave  all  his  af 
fairs,  often  in  very  precarious  situations,  and  go  through  the 
useless  ceremony  of  reading  and  spelling.  When  he  comes 
home,  the  house-maid  has  swept  his  foremast  into  the  fire, 
and  mamma  has  put  his  top-sails  into  the  rag-bag,  and  all 
his  affairs  are  in  a  desperate  situation.  Sometimes  he  gets 
terribly  misanthropic ;  all  grown  people  seem  conspiring 
against  him  ;  he  is  called  away  from  his  serious  business  so 
often,  and  his  attention  distracted  with  such  trifling  mat 
ters,  that  he  is  indignant.  He  is  rushing  through  the  pas 
sage  in  hot  haste,  hands  full  of  nails,  strings,  and  twine, 
and  Mary  seizes  him  and  wants  to  brush  his  hair  ;  he  is  in 
terrupted  in  a  burst  of  enthusiasm,  and  told  to  wash  his 
hands  for  dinner  ;  or  perhaps  —  a  greater  horror  than  all 
—  company  is  expected,  and  he  must  put  on  a  clean  new 
suit,  just  as  he  has  made  all  the  arrangements  for  a  ship- 
launching  down  by  the  swamp.  This  dressing  and  wash 
ing  he  regards  with  unutterable  contempt  and  disgust ; 


316      OUK   CHAKLEY   AND   THE    STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

secretly,  too,  he  is  skeptical  about  the  advantages  of  going 
to  school  and  learning  to  read  ;  he  believes,  to  be  sure, 
when  papa  and  mamma  tell  him  of  unknown  future  advan 
tages  to  come  when  he  is  a  "  great  man  ; "  but  then,  the 
present  he  is  sure  of  ;  his  ships  and  sloops,  his  bits  of  string 
and  fish-hooks,  and  old  corks  and  broken  railroad  cars,  and 
above  all,  his  new  skates ;  these  are  realities.  And  he 
knows  also  what  Tom  White  and  Bill  Smith  say ;  and  so 
he  walks  by  sight  more  than  by  faith. 

Ah,  the  child  is  father  of  the  man !  When  he  gets  older 
he  will  have  the  great  toys  of  which  these  are  emblems ; 
he  will  believe  in  what  he  sees  and  touches  —  in  house, 
land,  railroad  stock  —  he  will  believe  in  these  earnestly 
and  really,  and  in  his  eternal  manhood  nominally  and  par 
tially.  And  when  his  Father's  messengers  meet  him,  and 
face  him  about,  and  take  him  off  his  darling  pursuits,  and 
sweep  his  big  ships  into  the  fire,  and  crush  his  full-grown 
cars,  then  the  grown  man  will  complain  and  murmur,  and 
wonder  as  the  little  man  does  now.  The  Father  wants  the 
future,  the  Child  the  present,  all  through  life,  till  death 
makes  the  child  a  man. 

So,  though  our  Charley  has  his  infirmities,  he  is  a  little 
bit  of  a  Christian  after  all.  Like  you,  brother,  he  has  his 
good  hours,  when  he  sits  still  and  calm,  and  is  told  of 
Jesus ;  and  his  cheeks  glow,  and  tears  come  to  his  eyes  ;  his 
bosom  heaves  ;  and  now  he  is  sure  he  is  going  to  be  always 
good  ;  he  is  never  going  to  be  naughty.  He  will  stand  still 
to  have  his  hair  combed  ;  he  will  come  the  first  time  mother 
speaks ;  he  will  never  speak  a  cross  word  to  Katy ;  he 
repents  of  having  tyrannized  over  grandmamma,  and  made 
poor  mamma's  head  ache ;  and  is  quite  sure  that  he  has  now 
got  the  victory  over  sin.  Like  the  Israelites  by  the  Red 
Sea,  he  beholds  his  spiritual  enemies  dead  on  the  sea-shore. 
But  to-morrow,  in  one  hour  even,  what  becomes  of  his  good 
resolutions  ?  What  becomes  of  yours  on  Monday  ? 


OUR   CHARLEY  317 

With  all  our  Charley's  backslidings,  he  may  teach  us  one 
thing  which  we  have  forgotten.  When  Jesus  would  teach 
his  disciples  what  faith  was,  he  took  a  child  and  set  him 
in  the  midst  of  them.  We  do  not  suppose  that  this  child 
was  one  of  those  exceptional  ones  who  have  memoirs  writ 
ten,  hut  a  common  average  child,  with  its  smiles  and  tears, 
its  little  naughtinesses  and  goodnesses  ;  and  its  aptness  as 
an  example  was  not  in  virtue  of  an  exceptional  but  a  uni 
versal  quality.  If  you  want  to  study,  go  to  school  to  your 
Charley.  See  his  faith  in  you.  Does  he  not  believe  that 
you  have  boundless  wealth,  boundless  wisdom,  infinite 
strength  ?  Is  he  not  certain  of  your  love  to  that  degree 
that  he  cannot  be  repelled  from  you  ?  Does  he  hesitate  to 
question  you  on  anything  celestial  or  terrestrial  ?  Is  not 
your  word  enough  to  outweigh  that  of  the  wisest  of  the 
earth  ?  You  might  talk  him  out  of  the  sight  of  his  eyes, 
the  hearing  of  his  ears,  so  boundless  is  his  faith  in  you. 
Even  checks  and  frowns  cannot  make  him  doubt  your  love  ; 
and  though  sometimes,  when  you  cross  him,  the  naughty 
murmuring  spirit  arises,  yet  in  an  hour  it  dissolves,  and 
his  little  soul  flows  back,  prattling  and  happy,  into  your 
bosom.  Be  only  to  God  as  he  is  to  you,  and  the  fireside 
shadow  shall  not  have  been  by  your  hearth  in  vain. 

But  what  is  to  be  done  with  our  Charley  ?  Yes,  that 
is  the  question  !  The  fact  is,  there  seems  to  be  no  place 
in  heaven  above,  or  earth  beneath,  that  is  exactly  safe  and 
suitable,  except  the  bed.  While  he  is  asleep,  then  our 
souls  have  rest ;  we  know  where  he  is  and  what  he  is  about, 
and  sleep  is  a  gracious  state  ;  but  then  he  wakes  up  bright 
and  early,  and  begins  tooting,  pounding,  hammering,  sing 
ing,  meddling,  asking  questions,  and,  in  short,  overturning 
the  peace  of  society  generally,  for  about  thirteen  hours  out 
of  the  twenty-four. 

Everybody  wants  to  know  what  to  do  with  him  —  every 
body  is  quite  sure  that  he  can't  stay  where  they  are.  The 


318      OUR  CHARLEY  AND   THE   STORIES  TOLD   HIM 

cook  can't  have  him  in  the  kitchen,  where  he  infests  the  pan 
try  to  get  flour  to  make  paste  for  his  kites,  or  melts  lead  in 
the  new  saucepan.  If  he  goes  into  the  wood-shed,  he  is 
sure  to  pull  the  wood-pile  down  upon  his  head.  If  he  be 
sent  up  garret,  you  think  for  a  while  that  you  have  settled 
the  problem,  till  you  find  what  a  boundless  field  of  activity 
is  opened  amid  all  the  packages,  boxes,  bags,  barrels,  and 
cast-off  rubbish  there.  Old  letters,  newspapers,  trunks  of 
miscellaneous  contents,  are  all  rummaged,  and  the  very 
reign  of  Chaos  and  old  Night  is  instituted.  He  sees  end 
less  capabilities  in  all  things,  and  is  always  hammering  some 
thing,  or  knocking  something  apart,  or  sawing  or  planing, 
or  dragging  boxes  or  barrels  in  all  directions  to  build  cities, 
or  laying  railroad  tracks,  till  everybody's  head  aches,  quite 
down  to  the  lower  floor,  and  everybody  declares  that 
Charley  must  be  kept  out  of  the  garret. 

Then  you  send  Charley  to  school,  and  hope  you  are  fairly 
rid  of  him,  for  a  few  hours  at  least.  But  he  comes  home 
noisier  and  busier  than  ever,  having  learned  of  some  twenty 
other  Charleys  every  separate  resource  for  keeping  up  a 
commotion  that  a  superabundant  vitality  of  each  can  origi 
nate.  He  can  dance  like  Jim  Smith ;  he  has  learned  to 
smack  his  lips  like  Joe  Brown  ;  Will  Briggs  has  shown 
him  how  to  mew  like  a  cat ;  and  he  enters  the  house  with 
a  new  war-whoop  learned  from  Tom  Evans.  He  feels  large 
and  valorous  ;  he  has  learned  that  he  is  a  boy,  and  has  a 
general  impression  that  he  is  growing  immensely  strong  and 
knowing,  and  despises  more  than  ever  the  conventionalities 
of  parlor-life  —  in  fact  he  is  more  than  ever  an  interruption 
in  the  way  of  decent  folks,  who  want  to  be  quiet. 

It  is  true  that,  if  entertaining  persons  will  devote  them 
selves  to  him  exclusively,  reading  and  telling  stories,  he 
may  be  kept  in  a  state  of  quiescence ;  but  then  this  is  dis 
couraging  work,  for  he  swallows  a  story  as  a  dog  does  a 
piece  of  meat,  and  looks  at  you  for  another,  and  another 


OUR  CHARLEY  319 

without  the  slightest  consideration,  so  that  this  resource  is 
of  short  duration  ;  and  then  the  old  question  comes  up, 
What  is  to  be  done  with  him  ? 

But,  after  all,  Charley  is  not  to  be  wholly  shirked,  for 
he  is  an  institution,  a  solemn  and  awful  fact  ;  and  on  the 
answer  of  the  question,  What  is  to  be  done  with  him  ?  de 
pends  a  future.  Many  a  hard,  morose,  and  bitter  man  has 
come  from  a  Charley  turned  off  and  neglected  —  many  a 
parental  heart-ache  has  come  from  a  Charley  left  to  run  the 
streets,  that  mamma  and  sisters  might  play  on  the  piano 
and  write  letters  in  peace.  It  is  easy  to  get  rid  of  him  — 
there  are  fifty  ways  of  doing  that  —  he  is  a  spirit  that  can 
be  promptly  laid  for  a  season,  but  if  not  laid  aright,  will 
come  back  by  and  by,  a  strong  man  armed,  when  you  can 
not  send  him  off  at  pleasure. 

Mamma  and  sisters  had  better  pay  a  little  tax  to  Charley 
now,  than  a  terrible  one  by  and  by.  There  is  something 
significant  in  the  old  English  phrase,  with  which  our  Scrip 
tures  make  us  familiar  —  a  man  child  !  A  MAN  child  !  — 
there  you  have  the  word  that  should  make  you  think  more 
than  twice  before  you  answer  the  question,  What  shall  we 
do  with  Charley  ? 

For  to-day  he  is  at  your  feet  —  to-day  you  can  make  him 
laugh,  you  can  make  him  cry,  you  can  persuade  and  coax, 
and  turn  him  to  your  pleasure ;  you  can  make  his  eyes  fill 
and  his  bosom  swell  with  recitals  of  good  and  noble  deeds ; 
in  short,  you  can  mould  him  if  you  will  take  the  trouble. 

But  look  ahead  some  years,  when  that  little  voice  shall 
ring  in  deep  bass  tones ;  when  that  small  foot  shall  have  a 
man's  weight  and  tramp ;  when  a  rough  beard  shall  cover 
that  little  round  chin,  and  all  the  strengh  of  manhood  fill 
out  that  little  form.  Then  you  would  give  worlds  to  have 
the  key  to  his  heart,  to  be  able  to  turn  and  guide  him  to 
your  will  ;  but  if  you  lose  that  key  now  he  is  little,  you 
may  search  for  it  carefully  with  tears  some  other  day,  and 


320      OUR  CHARLEY  AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

not  find  it.  Old  housekeepers  have  a  proverb,  that  one 
hour  lost  in  the  morning  is  never  found  all  day  —  it  has  a 
significance  in  this  case. 

One  thing  is  to  be  noticed  about  Charley  —  that,  rude, 
and  busy,  and  noisy  as  he  inclines  to  be,  and  irksome  as  carpet 
rules  and  parlor  ways  are  to  him,  he  is  still  a  social  little 
creature,  and  wants  to  be  where  the  rest  of  the  household 
are.  A  room  ever  so  well  adapted  for  a  play-room  cannot 
charm  him  at  the  hour  when  the  family  is  in  reunion  ;  he 
hears  the  voices  in  the  parlor,  and  his  play-room  seems  cold 
and  desolate  —  it  may  be  warmed  by  a  fire  and  lighted  with 
gas,  but  it  is  human  light  and  warmth  he  shivers  for  —  he 
longs  to  take  his  things  down  and  play  by  you  ;  he  yearns 
to  hear  the  talk  of  the  family,  which  he  so  imperfectly 
comprehends,  and  is  incessantly  promising  that  of  the  fifty 
improper  things  which  he  is  liable  to  do  in  the  parlor,  he 
will  not  commit  one  if  you  will  let  him  stay  there. 

This  instinct  of  the  little  one  is  Nature's  warning  plea  — 
God's  admonition.  Oh,  how  many  a  mother  who  has  neg 
lected  it,  because  it  was  irksome  to  have  the  child  about,  has 
longed,  when  her  son  was  a  man,  to  keep  him  by  her  side, 
and  he  would  not !  Shut  out  as  a  little  Arab  —  constantly 
told  that  he  is  noisy,  that  he  is  awkward  and  meddlesome, 
and  a  plague  in  general  —  the  boy  has  at  last  found  his  own 
company  in  the  streets,  in  the  highways  and  hedges  where 
he  runs,  till  the  day  comes  when  the  parents  want  their  son, 
the  sisters  their  brother ;  and  then  they  are  scared  at  the 
face  he  brings  back  to  them,  as  he  comes  all  foul  and  smutty 
from  the  companionship  to  which  they  have  doomed  him. 
Depend  upon  it,  mothers,  and  elder  sisters,  if  it  is  too  much 
trouble  to  keep  Charley  in  your  society,  there  will  be  places 
found  for  him,  warmed  and  lighted  with  no  friendly  fires, 
where  he  who  "  finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle  hands  to 
do  "  will  care  for  him  if  you  do  not.  You  may  put  out  a 
tree,  and  it  will  grow  aright  while  you  sleep ;  but  a  son  you 


OUR   CHARLEY  321 

cannot  treat  so.  You  must  take  trouble  for  him,  either 
a  little  now,  or  a  good  deal  by  and  by. 

Let  him  stay  with  you  at  least  some  portion  of  every  day. 
Put  aside  your  book  or  work  to  tell  him  a  story,  or  read  to 
him  from  some  book.  Devise  still  parlor  plays  for  him,  for 
he  gains  nothing  if  he  be  allowed  to  spoil  the  comfort  of  the 
whole  circle.  A  pencil  and  a  sheet  of  paper,  and  a  few  pat 
terns,  will  often  keep  him  quiet  for  an  hour  by  your  side  ; 
or  in  a  corner  he  may  build  a  block  house,  annoying  nobody  ; 
and  if  occasionally  he  does  disturb  you  now,  balance  in  your 
own  mind  which  is  the  greatest  evil,  to  be  disturbed  by  him 
now,  or  when  he  is  a  man. 

Of  all  that  you  can  give  your  Charley,  if  you  are  a  good 
man  or  woman,  your  presence  is  the  best  and  safest  thing. 
God  never  meant  him  to  do  without  you,  any  more  than 
chickens  were  meant  to  grow  without  being  brooded. 

Then  let  him  have  some  place  in  the  house  where  it  shall 
be  no  sin  to  hammer,  and  pound,  and  saw,  and  make  all  the 
litter  that  his  various  schemes  of  business  require.  Even  if 
you  can  ill  afford  the  room,  weigh  well  which  is  best,  to 
spare  him  that  safe  asylum,  or  take  the  chance  of  one  which 
he  may  find  for  himself  in  the  street. 

Of  all  devices  for  Charley  which  we  have  tried,  a  few 
shelves,  which  he  may  dignify  with  the  name  of  cabinet,  is 
one  of  the  best.  He  picks  up  shells,  and  pebbles,  and 
stones  —  all  odds  and  ends ;  nothing  comes  amiss  ;  and  if 
you  give  him  a  pair  of  scissors  and  a  little  gum,  there  is  no 
end  of  the  labels  he  will  paste  on,  and  the  hours  that  he 
may  innocently  spend  in  sorting  and  arranging.  A  bottle 
of  liquid  gum  is  an  invaluable  resource  for  various  purposes  ; 
nor  must  you  mind  though  he  varnish  his  nose  and  fingers, 
and  clothes,  so  that  he  do  nothing  worse.  A  cheap  paint 
box,  and  some  engravings  to  color,  is  another ;  and  if  you 
will  give  him  some  real  paint  and  putty,  to  paint  and  putty 
his  boats  and  cars,  he  is  a  made  man.  All  these  things 


322      OUR  CHARLEY   AND  THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

make  trouble,  —  to  be  sure  they  do,  and  will,  —  but  Charley 
is  to  make  trouble ;  that  is  the  nature  of  the  institution. 
You  are  only  to  choose  between  safe  and  wholesome 
trouble  and  the  trouble  that  comes  at  last  like  a  whirlwind. 

God  bless  the  little  fellow,  and  send  us  all  grace  to  know 
what  to  do  with  him  ! 

The  stories  following  are  some  of  those  with  which  one 
mother  has  beguiled  the  twilight  hours  of  one  Charley  ;  they 
are  given  in  hopes  that  other  mothers  may  find  pleasure  in 
reading  them  to  their  Charleys. 


TAKE   CAEE   OF  THE   HOOK 

CHARLEY'S  mother  would  often  sit  with  him  by  the  fire, 
before  the  lamp  was  lighted  in  the  evening,  and  repeat  to 
him  little  pieces  of  poetry.  This  is  one  that  Charley  used 
to  like  particularly.  It  is  written  by  Miss  Jane  Taylor. 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  LITTLE  FISH 

"Dear  mother,"  said  a  little  fish, 

"  Pray  is  not  that  a  fly  ? 
I  'm  very  hungry,  and  I  wish 

You  'd  let  me  go  and  try." 

"Sweet  innocent,"  the  mother  cried, 

And  started  from  her  nook, 
"  That  horrid  fly  is  meant  to  hide 

The  sharpness  of  the  hook! " 

Now,  as  I  've  heard,  this  little  trout 

Was  young  and  silly  too ; 
And  so  he  thought  he  'd  venture  out, 

To  see  what  he  could  do. 

And  round  about  the  fly  he  played, 

With  many  a  longing  look; 
And  often  to  himself  he  said, 

"  I  'm  sure  that 's  not  a  hook. 

"I  can  but  give  one  little  pluck 

To  try,  and  so  I  will." 
So  on  he  went,  and  lo,  it  stuck 

Quite  through  his  little  gill. 

And  as  he  faint  and  fainter  grew, 

With  hollow  voice  he  cried, 
"Dear  mother,  if  I'd  minded  you, 

I  should  not  thus  have  died." 


324      OUR   CHARLEY  AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

After  this  was  finished,  Charley  looked  gravely  into  the 
fire,  and  began  his  remarks  upon  it.  "  What  a  silly  fellow 
that  little  trout  was !  He  might  have  known  better." 

"  Take  care,  Charley,"  said  his  mamma ;  "  there  are  a 
great  many  little  boys  just  as  silly  as  this  trout.  For 
instance,  I  knew  a  little  boy,  a  while  ago,  whose  mamma 
told  him  not  to  touch  green  apples  or  currants,  because  they 
would  make  him  sick.  He  did  not  mean  to  touch  them,  for 
he  knew  that  it  is  very  disagreeable  to  be  sick  and  take 
medicine,  but  yet  he  did  the  very  same  thing  that  this  little 
trout  did. 

"  Instead  of  keeping  far  away,  he  would  walk  about  under 
the  trees  and  pick  up  the  green  apples  to  look  at,  and  feel 
of  the  green  currants,  just  as  the  fish  would  play  round  the 
hook.  By  and  by  he  said,  fl  really  don't  think  they  will 
hurt  me ;  I  will  just  take  one  little  taste.'  And  then  he  ate 
one,  and  then  another,  till  finally  he  got  very  sick.  Do  you 
remember  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mamma,  that  was  I.     Yes,  I  remember." 

"  Now,  Charley,  hear  what  I  tell  you :  nobody  does  very 
wrong  things  because  he  means  to  at  first.  People  begin  by 
little  and  little,  just  tasting  and  trying  what  is  wrong,  like 
this  little  fish. 

"  There  is  George  Johnson,  a  very  fine  boy,  a  bright  boy, 
and  one  who  means  to  do  right ;  but  then  George  does  not 
always  keep  away  from  the  hook.  You  will  see  him  some 
times  standing  round  places  where  men  are  drinking  and 
swearing.  George  does  not  mean  ever  to  drink  or  to  swear ; 
he  only  stands  there  to  hear  these  men  sing  their  songs  and 
tell  their  stories,  and  sometimes  he  will  drink  just  a  little 
sip  of  sugar  and  spirits  out  of  the  bottom  of  a  tumbler ;  but 
George  never  means  really  to  be  a  drunkard.  Ah,  take  care, 
George ;  the  little  fish  did  not  mean  to  be  caught  either, 
but  he  kept  playing  round  and  round  and  round  the  hook, 
and  at  last  he  was  snapped  up ;  and  so  you  will  be  if  you 
don't  take  care. 


TAKE  CARE  OF  THE  HOOK          325 

"  Then  William  Day  means  to  be  an  honest  boy,  and  you 
could  not  make  him  more  angry  than  to  tell  him  he  would 
ever  be  a  thief ;  and  yet  William  plays  too  much  round  the 
hook.  What  does  he  do  ?  Why,  he  will  take  little  things 
out  of  his  father's  desk  or  shop,  or  out  of  his  mother's  basket 
or  drawers,  when  he  really  does  not  want  his  father  or  mother 
to  see  him  or  find  it  out.  William  thinks,  '  Oh,  it  's  only  a 
little  thing;  it  isn't  much  matter;  I  dare  say  they  had  just 
as  lief  I  had  it  as  not.'  Ah,  William,  do  you  think  so  ? 
Why  do  you  not  go  to  your  parents  and  ask  for  it,  then  ? 
No  ;  the  fact  is  that  William  is  learning  to  steal,  but  he  does 
not  believe  it  is  stealing  any  more  than  the  little  fish  believed 
that  what  looked  like  a  fly  was  in  fact  a  dreadful  hook. 
By  and  by,  if  William  does  n't  take  care,  when  he  goes  into 
a  shop  or  store,  he  will  begin  to  take  little  things  from  his 
master  just  as  he  did  from  his  father  and  mother;  and  he 
will  take  more  and  more,  till  finally  he  will  be  named  and 
disgraced  as  a  thief,  and  all  because,  like  the  little  fish,  he 
would  play  around  the  hook." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Charley,  "  who  are  George  Johnson  and 
William  Day  ?  Did  I  ever  see  them  ?  " 

"  My  dear,  I  must  use  names  in  a  story ;  I  am  just  mak 
ing  this  up  to  show  Charley  what  I  meant  by  playing 
round  the  hook.  And  now  let  me  teach  you  a  text  out  of 
the  Bible  that  means  the  same  thing  :  '  He  that  despiseth 
small  things  shall  fall  by  little  and  little.'  " 


A  TALK  ABOUT  BIRDS 

ONE  bright  morning,  when  the  yellow  dandelions  were 
shining  out  like  so  many  gold  dollars  in  the  green  grass, 
and  the  brooks  were  chattering  and  purling  to  each  other, 
and  small  eyebrights  were  looking  up  from  the  turf  like 
flocks  of  little  white  sheep,  a  little  boy,  whom  we  shall  call 
Jamie,  found,  all  of  a  sudden,  that  his  school  had  stopped, 
and  he  had  come  to  the  first  day  of  his  vacation. 

So  says  Jamie  to  himself,  "  What  shall  I  do  all  day 
long  ?  "  After  a  while  he  thought  he  would  take  a  basket, 
and  go  over  into  a  neighboring  field,  and  gather  some  eye 
brights  and  violets  to  dress  flower  vases  for  his  mamma. 

Well,  over  the  fence  he  went,  and  wandered  far  off  into 
the  field  ;  and  there  he  met  two  strange  boys,  larger  than 
he,  whose  names  were  Will  Drake  and  Charley  Jones. 

"  Hulloa  !  "  said  one  of  the  boys  to  him  ;  "  come  along 
with  us  —  we  are  going  to  have  fun.  We  have  got  our 
pockets  full  of  stones,  and  we  are  going  to  kill  birds  with 
them  ;  it 's  the  best  fun  in  the  world." 

Now  Jamie  was  a  thoughtless  little  fellow,  and  when 
another  boy  asked  him  to  do  a  thing,  at  it  he  went  at  once, 
without  so  much  as  thinking  whether  it  was  right  or  not ; 
so  he  filled  his  pockets  with  stones,  and  began  running  and 
shouting  with  the  other  boys.  "  Hulloa  !  there  's  a  chip 
ping  bird,"  said  one;  "I'll  hit  him."  "Look  at  the 
robin  !  "  bawled  another ;  "  send  a  stone  at  him.  Oh, 
there  's  a  bluebird !  now  for  him  ! "  I  am  happy  to  say 
that  these  boys  missed  their  hits,  generally,  for  they  in 
tended  much  worse  than  they  were  able  to  do. 


A  TALK  ABOUT  BIRDS  327 

While  they  were  thus  running  about  a  nice  white  cat 
came  stepping  along  the  top  of  a  fence,  putting  down  her 
paws  as  daintily  as  any  lady.  "  Hulloa  !  there  's  a  cat ; 
now  for  fun !  "  shouted  Will  Drake,  as  he  let  fly  a  stone, 
and  then  dashed  after  the  cat.  Puss  was  frightened,  and 
scampered  with  all  her  might ;  and  all  three  of  the  boys 
joined  chase  after  her,  and  came  tumbling,  one  after  another, 
over  the  back-yard  fence  of  the  place  where  Jamie  lived. 

But  Jamie's  mother  had  been  sitting  at  her  window 
watching  the  whole  affair;  and  now  she  stood  up,  and 
called,  in  a  very  quiet  way,  "  Jamie,  come  up  here  ;  I  have 
something  to  show  you." 

The  other  two  boys  slunk  away  a  little.  Jamie  came 
up  into  his  mother's  room,  all  panting  and  hot,  and  began, 
"  Mamma,  what  do  you  want  to  show  me  ?  " 

Now  Jamie's  mamma  was  a  very  kind  and  tender-hearted 
woman,  and  nothing  seemed  more  dreadful  to  her  than 
cruelty  to  any  animal.  Some  mothers,  who  felt  as  she  did, 
would  have  seized  Jamie  by  the  arm,  and  said,  "  Here,  you 
naughty  boy ;  I  saw  you  stoning  birds  over  in  the  lot ;  if 
you  ever  do  such  a  thing  again,  I  shall  punish  you."  But 
Jamie's  mother  had  reflected  about  these  things,  and  made 
up  her  mind  that  when  little  boys  did  cruel  things,  it  was 
more  because  they  were  thoughtless,  than  because  they  at 
heart  were  cruel ;  and,  therefore,  instead  of  blaming  him 
harshly,  she  set  out  to  make  him  think. 

So,  when  Jamie  came  in,  she  washed  his  heated  face 
and  hands,  and  then  took  from  a  drawer  a  small  black  box, 
which  she  wound  up  with  a  key  like  a  watch-key.  As 
soon  as  the  box  was  set  down,  it  began  to  play  a  most  beau 
tiful  tune,  and  Jamie  was  astonished  and  delighted. 

"  What  a  curious  box !  "  said  he ;  "  who  did  make 
it?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  his  mother ;  "  but  why  do  you 
think  it  is  curious  ?  " 


328      OUR   CHARLEY   AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

"  Why,  it  is  curious  to  see  a  musical  instrument  shut  up 
in  such  a  little  box.  Why,  I  could  carry  this  about  in  my 
pocket.  I  wish  't  was  mine,  and  1 'd  set  it  a  going,  and  put 
it  in  my  pocket  some  day,  and  then  I  could  make  the  boys 
stare." 

"  But,"  said  his  mother,  "  if  you  think  it  strange  to  see 
a  musical  instrument  put  in  a  little  box,  what  would  you 
think  if  I  could  tell  you  of  one  which  was  so  small  as  to 
be  put  in  a  bird's  throat  ?  " 

"  In  a  bird's  throat !  "  said  Jamie  ;  "  who  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  Well,"  answered  his  mother,  "  there  is  a  boy  in  this 
room  who  has  been  listening  this  morning  to  a  little  instru 
ment  which  is  inside  of  a  bird's  throat,  and  which  can 
make  sweeter  music  than  this  box ;  and  yet  he  did  not 
seem  to  wonder  at  it  at  all." 

Jamie  looked  wondering  at  his  mother.  "  When  you 
went  into  the  fields,  did  you  not  hear  robins  and  bluebirds 
playing  on  little  instruments  in  their  throats,  and  making 
all  sorts  of  sweet  sounds  ?  Look  now  at  your  little  can 
ary  bird  hanging  in  the  window,  and  see,  when  he  sings, 
how  his  throat  trembles." 

"  Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean  now,"  said  Jamie  :  "  you 
mean  my  little  canary  bird  is  like  a  music-box.  Well, 
but  what  sort  of  an  instrument  has  he  got  in  his  throat  ? 
1 7m  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  Why,  he  has  a  little,  fine,  soft  flute,  that  can  play  as 
many  notes  as  a  flute  with  silver  keys." 

"  A  flute  in  his  throat,"  said  Jamie,  laughing ;  "  what  a 
funny  idea!  " 

"  It  is  even  so,"  said  his  mother.  "  The  little  pipe 
through  which  the  canary  bird  plays  his  tunes  is  more 
curiously  made  than  any  flutes  which  any  instrument- 
maker  ever  formed ;  it  is  so  small,  yet  so  perfect ;  it  fits 
into  his  throat  so  easily  as  never  to  interrupt  his  eating  or 


A  TALK  ABOUT   BIEDS  329 

breathing ;  and  it  turns  whichever  way  he  bends  his  head. 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  any  musical  instrument  that  was  as 
curious  as  this  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  said  Jamie  ;  "  I  might  have  heard 
a  bird  sing  a  month,  and  never  have  thought  of  all  this  j 
but  now  I  do  think  of  it,  it  seems  very  curious.  But, 
mother,  what  is  this  little  flute  made  of  ?  " 

"It  is  made  of  little  elastic  rings." 

"  Elastic  !  what  is  that  ?  "  said  Jamie. 

"  Why,  like  India  rubber,  springy  and  easily  bent ;  and 
its  being  made  of  so  many  little  elastic  rings  is  the  reason 
why  he  can  turn  and  bend  his  throat  without  any  incon 
venience,  which  he  could  not  do  if  it  were  a  straight,  stiff 
pipe  like  a  flute. 

"  But,"  continued  his  mother,  "  these  little  bright  eyes 
that  your  bird  has  are  more  wonderful  than  anything  I 
have  yet  told  you  of ;  but  the  contrivance  is  so  very  com 
plicated  that  I  do  not  think  I  can  make  you  understand  it." 

"  What  is  complicated  ?  "  said  Jamie. 

"  The  machinery  in  the  inside  of  my  watch  is  compli 
cated  ;  that  is,  it  is  made  up  of  a  great  many  parts  which 
answer  many  different  purposes.  And  there  is  a  machinery 
inside  of  one  of  those  little  birds'  eyes  that  is  more  com 
plicated  still." 

"  What,  that  little  dot  of  an  eye,  not  bigger  than  a  pin 
head  ?  " 

"  Well,  let  me  tell  you ;  inside  of  that  little  eye  is  a 
contrivance  by  which,  when  the  bird  is  looking  at  you,  an 
exact  picture  of  you  is  painted  on  the  back  of  his  eye." 

"It  must  be  a  very  small  picture,"  said  Jamie. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  his  mother,  "  but  still  it  is  a 
picture  exactly  like  you ;  every  line  and  every  color  in 
your  face  is  painted  exactly  on  the  back  of  that  little  eye." 

"  Pray,  how  is  it  done  ?  "  said  Jamie. 

"  That,  my  dear  boy,  is  the  machinery  which  I  told  you 


330      OUR   CHARLEY   AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD  HIM 

was  so  complicated  that  I  cannot  hope  to  make  you  under 
stand  it.  There  is  a  contrivance  just  like  it  in  your  own 
eye,  and  in  the  eye  of  every  animal ;  but  it  is  more  curious 
in  a  bird's  eye  because  it  is  so  very  small." 

"  What,  do  we  all  have  pictures  painted  on  the  back  of 
our  eyes  ?  Is  that  the  way  we  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  way ;  and  when  you  are  older  you 
will  be  able  to  understand  the  wonderful  and  beautiful 
contrivance  by  which  this  is  done.  It  has  cost  learned 
men  much  study  to  find  it  out,  and  they  have  discovered 
that  the  way  in  which  the  eye  of  a  bird  is  made  is  in  some 
respects  more  curious  than  our  own." 

"  Well,  mamma/'  said  Jamie,  "  there  's  one  thing ;  and 
that  is,  that  there  is  a  great  deal  more  to  be  learned  about 
a  little  bird  than  I  ever  supposed." 

"  But,  Jamie,  I  have  not  yet  told  you  half.  Every 
bone  in  this  little  bird's  body  is  as  carefully  made  and  fin 
ished  as  if  that  bone  were  the  only  thing  the  Creator  had 
to  make ;  and  the  joints  of  them  are  curiously  contrived, 
so  that  the  little  fellow  can  hop,  and  spring,  and  turn  all 
day,  and  yet  nothing  grates  or  gets  out  of  order.  They  all 
move  so  springily  and  easily,  that  I  doubt  whether  he  ever 
thought  whether  he  had  a  joint  in  his  body  or  riot.  Then 
he  has  contrivances  in  his  little  stomach  for  dissolving  his 
food,  and  turning  it  into  blood,  and  he  has  blood  vessels  to 
carry  it  all  over  his  body,  and  he  has  nerves  to  feel  with, 
and  he  has  muscles  to  move  with." 

"  Now,  mother,  I  don't  know  what  nerves  and  muscles 
are,"  said  Jamie. 

"Nerves  are  what  you  feel  with.  You  eat,  and  the 
nerves  of  your  mouth  give  you  your  taste.  The  nerves  of 
your  nose  give  you  smell.  The  nerves  of  your  eyes  see, 
and  the  nerves  of  your  ears  enable  you  to  hear,  and  the 
nerves  that  cover  your  whole  body  enable  you  to  feel. 
These  nerves  all  come  from  a  very  large  nerve  that  runs 


A  TALK  ABOUT  BIRDS  331 

down  through  the  middle  of  your  back-bone,  and  is  called 
the  spinal  marrow ;  and  they  go  through  the  whole  body, 
dividing  and  branching  out,  till  they  form  a  network  cover 
ing  over  the  whole  of  it,  so  that  you  cannot  put  the  point 
of  a  pin  anywhere  without  touching  a  nerve." 

"  Mother,  has  a  bird  just  such  nerves  ?  " 

"  Very  much  the  same." 

"  And  what  are  muscles  ?  " 

"Did  you  ever  pull  a  piece  of  lean  meat  into  little 
strings  ?  "  said  his  mother. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jamie. 

"Well,  a  muscle  is  a  bundle  of  such  little  strings,  and 
these  strings  generally  end  in  a  strong,  tough  cord,  called  a 
tendon.  This  muscle  has  the  power  of  shrinking  up  short, 
like  India  rubber ;  and  when  it  shrinks  it  pulls  the  ten 
don  and  the  tendon  pulls  whatever  it  is  fastened  to.  I  can 
show  you  some  tendon  in  a  moment.  Pull  the  back  of 
your  hand ;  don't  you  find  that  there  is  a  tough,  hard  cord 
runs  down  from  every  finger  ?  these  are  tendons.  Now 
take  hold  tight  round  your  arm,  and  shut  up  your  hand." 

Jamie  did  so,  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  mother,  when  I  shut 
up  my  hand,  I  feel  something  move  up  here  by  my  elbow." 

"  That  is  the  muscle,"  said  his  mother ;  "  you  feel  it 
drawing  up  short,  and  it  pulls  the  tendons,  and  these  ten 
dons  pull  down  your  fingers." 

Jamie  amused  himself  some  time  with  opening  and  shut 
ting  his  hand,  and  then  he  said,  — 

il  Well,  are  all  the  movements  that  we  make  done  in  the 
same  way,  by  muscles  and  tendons  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  his  mother,  "  and  all  the  motions  of  the 
animals.  There  are  dozens  and  dozens  of  muscles,  shrink 
ing,  and  stretching,  and  pulling  about  in  little  Cherry  every 
few  moments,  and  yet  none  of  them  wear  out,  or  break,  or 
get  out  of  order  or  give  him  the  least  trouble." 

"  I  guess  Cherry  don't  think   much  about  them,"  said 


332      OUR   CHAELEY  AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

Jamie,  as  he  watched  the  little  fellow  hopping  about  in  his 
cage. 

"  Poor  little  Cherry/7  said  his  mother,  "  he  cannot 
understand  how  much  God  has  done  for  him,  with  what 
watchful  care  he  has  made  his  little  hody,  how  carefully  he 
has  guarded  it  from  all  kinds  of  suffering,  and  how  many 
beautiful  contrivances  there  are  in  it  to  make  him  happy." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Jamie ;  "  if  he  did  he  would  love 
God." 

"  Well,  Jamie,"  said  his  mother,  "  how  should  you  feel, 
if  you  had  contrived  some  curious  and  beautiful  little  play 
thing,  and  just  as  you  had  it  all  nicely  finished  off,  some 
boy  should  come  along  with  a  great  stick,  and  knock  it  all 
to  pieces  ?  " 

"  Feel  ?  "  said  Jamie  ;  "  why,  I  should  be  mad  enough !  " 

"  And  suppose  that  some  gentleman  should  invite  you 
and  two  or  three  other  boys  to  his  house,  and  should  show 
you  into  a  large  hall  full  of  most  beautiful  pictures  and 
looking-glasses,  and  flowers,  and  every  kind  of  beautiful 
things,  and  you  should  amuse  yourselves  with  breaking  his 
looking-glasses,  and  beating  down  his  flowers,  and  pulling 
to  pieces  all  his  curious  and  beautiful  things ;  how  do  you 
think  he  would  feel  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  should  think  he  would  feel  very  angry,  to  be 
sure." 

"  Well,  Jamie,  when  little  boys  go  out  into  the  woods 
and  fields  which  God  has  filled  with  beautiful  trees  and 
flowers,  and  with  hundreds  of  little  happy  birds,  all  so 
curiously  and  beautifully  made,  and  amuse  themselves  only 
with  throwing  stones  at  them,  and  killing  them,  must  not 
God  be  displeased  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  should  think  he  must,"  said  Jamie.  After 
a  few  minutes,  he  added,  "  And  it  is  a  great  deal  worse  to 
kill  little  birds  than  it  is  to  break  looking-glasses  and  such 
things,  because  little  birds  can/ee^,  you  know." 


A  TALK  ABOUT  BIRDS  333 

"  Yes,"  said  his  mother,  "  and  the  care  with  which  God 
has  made  them  shows  how  much  he  has  thought  about 
them,  and  how  careful  he  has  been  to  do  all  he  can  to  make 
them  happy.  The  Bible  says,  his  tender  mercies  are  over 
all  his  works  ;  he  is  not  merely  good  to  everything,  but  he 
is  tender  and  careful  in  all  he  does,  as  a  mother  is  tender 
in  taking  care  of  a  little  helpless  infant.  Now,"  said 
his  mamma,  "  I  am  going  to  read  you  a  little  story." 


THE  NEST  IN  THE  OECHAED 

IT  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  morning  in  April.  The 
snows  had  melted  into  the  little  brooks,  and  the  little 
brooks  ran  rattling  and  gurgling  about  among  the  green, 
mossy  stones.  The  violet  had  opened  its  fair  blue  eyes  to 
look  forth  from  its  tufts  of  leaves ;  the  broad  blades  of  the 
water-flag  and  the  blue  lily  were  shooting  up  fresh  and 
green  ;  the  yellow  dandelions  spotted  the  grass,  and  tufts  of 
golden  cowslips  grew  close  by  the  water.  The  little  leaves 
had  just  begun  to  show  themselves,  and  looked  like  a  thin 
green  veil  spread  over  the  trees.  The  little  birds  had  come 
back  a  long  way  through  the  air  from  the  various  countries 
where  they  had  been  spending  the  winter,  arid  were  filling 
the  whole  air  with  music. 

On  a  mossy  rail,  a  part  of  the  orchard  fence,  sat  two 
beautiful  bluebirds,  enjoying  the  bright  sunshine,  and  twit 
tering  and  chattering  to  each  other  with  all  their  might. 
This  very  pair  of  birds,  the  last  year,  had  made  their  nest 
in  this  very  orchard,  and  brought  up  a  whole  family  of 
little  birds.  All  winter  they  had  been  chirping  about  and 
enjoying  themselves  among  the  warm,  sunny  valleys  of  the 
Bahama  Isles ;  and  now  they  had  come  back  again  to  go  to 
house-keeping  in  the  old  orchard. 

Eight  in  the  middle  of  this  peaceful  orchard  was  a  spread 
ing  apple-tree,  whose  bending  branches  almost  touched  the 
ground  all  around.  The  tall  grass  and  clover  grew  up  so 
high  under  this  tree  as  to  mix  with  the  leaves  and  fruit  on 
the  end  of  these  boughs,  and  underneath  there  was  a  de 
licious  cool  little  room  roofed  by  the  branches,  where  all 


THE  NEST  IN  THE  ORCHARD          335 

summer  long  no  creature  had  admission  but  the  birds,  and 
the  little  flies,  and  the  honey-bees  —  for  this  tree  stood  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  orchard,  and  Farmer  Brown  kept  good 
watch  that  no  boys  should  get  into  it  to  trample  down  the 
long  grass  before  mowing  time.  Well,  in  the  trunk  of  this 
old  tree,  just  where  the  branches  parted,  was  a  snug  little 
hole.  It  was  exactly  big  enough  for  a  bird  to  build  its  nest 
in,  and  it  was  so  situated  that  any  one  standing  under  the 
tree  and  looking  up  could  not  have  thought  of  there  being 
any  hole  there.  A  safer  little  house  for  a  bird  could  never 
have  been  found  ;  and  here  these  little  birds  had  concluded 
to  build  their  nest. 

So  they  set  to  work  and  picked  out  all  the  rubbish  and 
dry  sticks  that  had  fallen  into  the  hole,  and  after  they  had 
nicely  cleaned  it  out,  they  laid  the  foundation  of  their  little 
house  with  small  twigs,  which  they  plastered  firmly  together 
with  mud  ;  then  they  picked  up  straw  and  hay  for  the  next 
layer,  and  wove  them  into  a  little  round  nest ;  and  after 
that  they  flew  all  over  the  neighborhood  to  pick  up  any 
stray  feathers  and  soft  bits  of  wool  or  moss  that  they  could 
find,  to  line  the  inside  and  make  it  soft  and  warm. 

It  took  these  bluebirds  two  or  three  days  before  their 
nest  was  finished.  But  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day, 
just  as  the  long,  bright  beams  of  the  setting  sun  were  dart 
ing  between  the  apple-trees  of  the  old  orchard,  the  two 
little  birds  might  have  been  seen  chirping  and  chatting 
together  over  their  finished  nest,  in  the  happiest  manner  in 
the  world. 

"  What  a  lucky  thing  it  was,  my  dear,"  said  the  little 
wife,  "  that  you  found  such  a  snug  hole  !  I  am  sure  nobody 
will  ever  find  us  out  here.  We  can  fly  all  about  under  this 
great  tree,  and  nobody  will  ever  see  us  or  suspect  what  we 
are  doing." 

"And,  my  dear,"  said  the  little  husband,  "I  am  de 
lighted  with  your  weaving  here,  in  the  inside  of  the  house. 


336      OUR   CHARLEY  AND   THE   STORIES  TOLD   HIM 

How  nicely  you  have  worked  in  that  little  bit  of  red  silk 
on  one  side  !  I  had  no  idea,  when  the  good  woman  swept 
that  piece  out  of  doors,  that  you  could  make  so  much  of  it. 
Then,  how  soft  and  warm  the  wool  is  !  Ah,  very  few  blue 
birds  can  make  a  handsomer  nest  than  this." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  wife,  "  and  there  is  almost  a  yard  of  lace 
woven  into  it.  I  picked  it  off  from  a  bush,  where  an  old 
lady  had  hung  it  on  purpose  for  me." 

When  the  old  apple-tree  began  to  put  forth  its  pink  buds, 
after  a  few  days  five  little  blue  eggs  made  their  appearance 
in  the  nest,  and  then  the  mother  bird  began  to  set ;  while 
her  mate  spent  all  his  time  either  in  flying  about  to  look  up 
food  for  her,  or  perching  about  in  different  parts  of  the  tree, 
and  entertaining  her  with  his  music.  At  length  the  buds 
on  the  old  tree  opened,  and  it  grew  white  with  fragrant 
blossoms,  and  five  little  downy  birds  were  to  be  seen  in  the 
nest.  Nobody  can  say  how  delighted  both  parents  were. 
They  carefully  picked  out  all  the  broken  bits  of  the  eggs 
from  their  nest,  and  then,  while  one  would  sit  with  wings 
outspread  to  keep  the  little  creatures  warm,  the  other  would 
range  about  and  get  flies  and  worms  to  feed  them.  Little 
birds  are  amazingly  hungry  ;  and  when  either  parent  re 
turned  with  food,  you  might  have  seen  five  little  red  mouths 
gaping  wide  open,  all  ready  to  receive  their  portion.  And 
when  their  hunger  was  fully  satisfied,  the  mother  would 
nestle  over  them  with  her  warm  feathers,  and  the  father 
bird  would  sit  beside  her,  and  they  would  admire  the  beau 
tiful  sheet  of  white  blossoms  over  their  heads,  and  have 
long  talks  about  their  little  family,  and  how  soon  they 
would  be  learning  to  fly,  and  then  what  journeys  they  would 
take  with  them,  and  what  good  times  they  would  have. 

One  beautiful  morning,  while  the  dew-drops  were  yet 
twinkling  among  the  blossoms,  the  father  bird  prepared  to 
go  on  one  of  his  journeys  after  food.  He  bade  good  morn 
ing  to  his  pretty  family  in  a  sweet  song  which  he  sung  on 


THE  NEST  IN  THE  ORCHARD          337 

the  highest  branch  of  the  apple-tree,  and  then  soared  off 
into  the  blue  sky,  as  happy  a  bird  as  ever  was  seen. 

Just  at  the  same  time  a  man  with  a  large  bag  slung 
over  his  shoulder,  and  a  long  gun  in  his  hand,  made  his 
appearance  in  the  fields.  Pretty  soon  he  saw  our  bright 
father  bluebird,  as  he  was  sitting  on  the  top  of  a  tree  with 
a  worm  in  his  mouth,  which  he  was  just  going  to  carry 
home  to  his  family. 

So  he  drew  up  his  gun  and  fired,  and  down  fell  the  poor 
little  bluebird.  The  man  walked  to  the  spot  and  picked 
him  up  —  the  shot  had  gone  through  his  head  and  he  was 
quite  dead. 

"  What  could  he  want  to  shoot  the  little  birds  for  ?  " 
said  Jamie. 

"  My  dear  boy,  some  people  have  an  absurd  way  of  think 
ing  that  birds  will  injure  the  fruit ;  and  as  there  were  one 
or  two  ripe  cherry-trees  in  this  orchard,  the  man  thought 
they  would  get  his  cherries.  It  is  a  very  foolish  idea ;  for 
the  birds,  in  fact,  do  more  good  by  devouring  the  grubs 
and  insects  that  injure  trees  and  plants,  than  all  the  harm 
they  can  do  by  helping  themselves  now  and  then  to  a  little 
fruit." 

Well,  it  came  noon,  and  the  mother  bird  remained  in  the 
old  apple-tree,  still  brooding  and  tending  her  little  ones, 
and  wondering  that  their  poor  father  did  not  return  as  he 
had  promised.  Very  soon  the  long  shadows  stretched  to 
the  east,  and  showed  that  the  afternoon  was  far  spent ;  and 
still  he  did  not  return,  and  the  mother  bird  wondered,  and 
the  little  birds  began  to  call  for  their  food.  So  the  mother 
left  the  little  birds,  and  went  to  the  top  of  the  tree,  and 
began  to  call  on  her  husband  ;  but  she  could  not  make  him 
hear.  She  fluttered  around  among  the  trees  of  the  orchard, 
looking  for  him,  and  calling  him  j  but  in  vain.  Then  she 


338      OUR  CHARLEY  AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD  HIM 

picked  up  some  food  for  her  little  ones,  and  returned  home 
weary  and  sad.  The  dark  night  came,  but  no  kind  father 
returned.  And  in  the  morning  there  was  no  merry  song  in 
the  old  tree,  for  the  father  was  gone  and  the  mother  was 
silent.  But  she  took  up  the  "burden  of  supporting  her 
family,  and  went  flying  about  in  the  orchard  picking  up 
food  for  her  little  ones  as  well  as  she  was  able. 

While  she  was  thus  flying  about  one  day,  the  same  man, 
with  the  gun  on  his  shoulder,  came  spying  about  the  old 
orchard,  for  he  had  said  that  it  was  an  excellent  place  to 
shoot  birds.  Pretty  soon  he  saw  the  poor  mother  picking 
worms  from  a  mossy  rail,  and  pointed  his  gun  at  her.  The 
shot  struck  her  wing  and  went  into  her  side ;  but  still  she 
was  not  killed ;  and  all  bleeding  as  she  was,  she  thought  she 
would  try  to  get  home  to  her  birdies  once  more.  When  she 
came  to  the  old  apple-tree,  her  little  strength  was  quite  spent 
—  her  feathers  were  dripping  with  blood  ;  and  when  she  had 
put  the  food  she  had  gathered  into  their  mouths,  she  fell 
down  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  She  fluttered  a  few  moments, 
and  then  her  soft  little  eyes  closed,  and  the  poor  mother  bird 
was  dead. 

A  great  while  after,  when  the  old  apple-tree  was  loaded 
with  bright  yellow  apples,  the  farmer's  men  mowed  the  grass 
under  the  tree,  and  one  of  the  boys  thought  he  would  go  up 
and  shake  off  some  apples.  While  he  was  climbing,  he  put 
his  hand  into  the  hole  and  found  our  birds'  nest. 

He  drew  it  out,  and  there  were  five  little  dead  birds  in  it ! 
So  much  for  shooting  the  pretty  bluebirds ! 


THE  HAPPY   CHILD 

"PAPA,"  said  Edward  Thompson  to  his  father,  "you 
don't  know  what  beautiful  things  James  Robertson  has,  of 
all  kinds." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  little  Robert,  "  when  we  were  there 
yesterday,  he  took  us  up  into  a  little  room  that  was  all  full 
of  playthings,  just  like  a  toy-shop." 

"  He  had  little  guns,  and  two  drums,  and  a  trumpet,  and 
a  fife,"  said  Edward  j  "  and  one  of  the  drums  was  a  real  one, 
papa,  such  as  men  play  on." 

"  And,  papa,  he  had  railroad  cars,  with  a  little  railroad  for 
them  to  go  on,  and  steam-engine,  and  all,"  said  Robert. 

"  And  a  whole  company  of  wooden  soldiers,"  said  Edward. 

"  And  all  sorts  of  blocks  to  build  houses,"  said  Robert. 

"  And  besides,  papa,"  said  Edward,  "  he  has  a  real  live 
pony  to  ride  on ;  such  a  funny  little  fellow  you  never  saw ; 
and  he  has  such  a  pretty  little  riding-stick,  and  a  splendid 
saddle  and  bridle." 

"  Really,"  said  their  father,  "  you  make  out  quite  a  list 
of  possessions." 

"  Oh,  but,  papa,  we  have  not  told  you  half ;  he  has  a 
beautiful  flower-garden,  and  a  gardener  to  cultivate  it  for 
him,  so  that  he  don't  have  to  take  any  trouble  with  it,  and 
he  can  do  anything  with  the  flowers  he  chooses." 

"Oh,  and,  papa,  he  has  rabbits  and  a  beautiful  gray 
squirrel,  with  a  cage  fixed  so  nicely ;  and  the  squirrel  plays 
so  many  droll  tricks ;  and  he  has  a  parrot  that  can  talk,  and 
laugh,  and  call  his  name,  and  say  a  great  many  funny  things." 

"  Well,"  said  their  father,  "  I  suppose  you  think  that 
James  is  a  very  happy  boy." 


340      OUR  CHARLEY   AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  papa;  how  can  he  help  being  happy?" 
said  both  boys.  "  Besides,  his  mamma,  he  says,  lets  him  do 
very  much  as  he  likes  about  everything." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  their  father ;  "  and  was  he  so  very  happy 
all  day  when  you  were  there  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  not  all  day,"  said  Edward ;  "  but  then  there 
was  a  reason  for  it ;  for  in  the  morning  we  had  planned  to  go 
out  to  the  lake  to  fish,  and  it  rained,  and  it  made  James 
feel  rather  cross,  I  suppose." 

"  But,"  said  his  father,  "  I  should  have  thought,  by  your 
account,  that  there  were  things  enough  in  the  house  to  have 
amused  you  all." 

"  But  James  said  he  was  so  used  to  all  those  things  that 
he  did  not  want  to  play  with  them,"  said  Robert ;  "  he  called 
some  of  the  prettiest  things  that  he  had  *  ugly  old  things/ 
and  said  he  hated  the  sight  of  them." 

"  Well,"  said  their  father,  "  I  suspect,  if  the  truth  was 
known,  James  is  not  so  much  to  be  envied  after  all.  I  have 
been  a  week  at  a  time  at  his  father's  house,  and  I  have 
thought  that  a  more  uncomfortable,  unhappy-tempered  little 
fellow  I  never  saw." 

"Well,  that  is  strange,"  said  Edward;  "I  am  sure  I 
would  be  happy  if  I  was  in  his  place." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  would  not,"  said  his  father  ;  "  for  I  be 
lieve  it  is  having  so  many  things  that  makes  him  unhappy." 

"  Having  so  many  things,  papa !  "  said  both  boys. 

"  Yes,  my  sons ;  but  I  will  explain  this  more  to  you 
some  other  time.  However,  this  afternoon,  as  you  are  go 
ing  to  have  a  ride  with  me,  I  think  I  will  take  you  over  to 
see  a  little  boy  who  is  a  very  happy  boy,  as  I  think,"  said 
their  father. 

"  I  wonder  if  this  can  be  the  house  ?  "  said  Edward  to 
Robert,  as  the  carriage  stopped  before  a  very  small  brown 
house. 


THE   HAPPY   CHILD  341 

Their  father  got  out,  and  asked  them  to  walk  in  with 
him.  It  was  a  very  little  house,  with  only  two  rooms  in  it ; 
and  in  the  one  they  entered  they  saw  a  very  pale,  thin  little 
boy,  lying  on  a  small,  low  bed  in  front  of  the  door.  His 
face  was  all  worn  away  by  disease,  and  his  little  hands, 
which  were  folded  on  the  outside  of  the  bed,  were  so  thin 
one  could  almost  see  through  them.  He  had  a  few  play 
things  lying  by  him  on  the  bed,  and  on  a  little  stand  near 
him  was  a  cracked  brown  mug,  in  which  were  some  sweet 
peas,  and  larkspurs,  and  lavender,  and  bright  yellow  mari 
golds  ;  beside  which  lay  a  well-worn  Bible  and  hymn-book. 
His  mother  was  ironing  in  the  next  room ;  but  when  she 
saw  the  boys  and  their  father,  she  came  forward  to  receive 
them. 

"  Well,  my  little  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Thompson,  "  how  do 
you  do  to-day  ?  " 

"  Oh,  pretty  comfortable,"  he  said,  cheerfully. 

"  I  have  brought  my  boys  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Thomp 
son. 

The  sick  boy  smiled,  and  reached  out  one  of  his  thin 
little  hands  to  welcome  them.  Edward  and  Robert  took  his 
hand,  and  then  turned  and  looked  anxiously  at  their  father. 

"  Papa,  how  long  has  he  been  so  sick  ?  "  asked  Robert. 

"  More  than  a  year,  young  gentlemen,"  said  his  mother ; 
"  it  *s  a  year  since  he  has  been  able  to  sit  up ;  and  it  ;s  four 
months  since  he  has  been  able  to  be  turned  at  all  in  bed ; 
he  has  to  lie  all  the  time,  just  as  you  see,  on  his  back." 

"  Oh,  what  a  long,  long  time  !  "  said  Edward ;  "  why  can't 
you  turn  him,  and  let  him  lie  on  his  side  ?  " 

"  Because  it  hurts  him  to  lie  on  either  side." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  asked  Robert. 

"  Why,  the  doctor  says  it  ?s  a  complaint  of  the  bone  ;  it 
began  more  than  two  years  ago,  down  in  his  foot,  and  they 
had  to  cut  the  foot  off,  in  hopes  that  that  would  stop  it ;  but 
it  did  n't ;  and  then  they  cut  off  the  leg  above  the  knee, 


342      OUR  CHARLEY   AND   THE   STORIES   TOLD   HIM 

and  that  did  n't  stop  it ;  and  it  's  creeping  up,  up,  up,  and 
finally  it  will  be  the  death  of  him.  He  suffers  dreadfully 
at  nights ;  sometimes  no  sleep  at  all  for  two  or  three 
nights." 

"  Oh,  father,  how  dreadful !  "  said  Edward,  pressing  close 
to  his  father. 

"  Papa,'7  said  Robert,  looking  up  and  whispering,  "  I 
thought  we  were  going  to  see  a  little  boy  that  was  very 
happy." 

"  Wait  a  while,"  said  Mr.  Thompson,  "  and  you  will 
see ;  "  and  then  he  turned  to  the  sick  boy. 

"  My  little  fellow,"  said  he,  "  you  find  it  very  tiresome 
lying  here  so  long." 

"  A  little  so,"  said  the  boy,  smiling  very  pleasantly ; 
"  but  then  I  have  so  many  things  to  make  me  comfortable." 

"  What  things  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  a  knife,  and  I  can  whittle  a  little  at  a  time, 
and  I  have  this  little  china  dog  that  a  lady  gave  me.  I 
play  with  that  sometimes;  and  then,  don't  you  see  my 
flowers  ?  " 

The  little  boy  pointed  to  a  small  bed  of  flowers  just  before 
the  door,  where  there  were  some  pinks,  and  some  larkspurs, 
and  marigolds,  and  sweet  peas  ;  it  was  weeded  very  clean, 
and  the  flowers  made  it  bright  enough. 

"  Mother  planted  all  those  flowers  for  me  in  the  spring," 
he  said,  "  and  she  has  watered  and  weeded  them  every  night 
after  she  has  done  her  work  ;  they  grow  beautifully,  and  I 
lie  here  every  day  and  look  at  them.  Sometimes,  when  the 
rain  is  falling,  or  in  the  morning  when  the  dew  is  on  them, 
they  look  so  bright  and  fresh  !  Mother  puts  some  in  the 
mug  to  stand  by  me  every  day." 

"  But  don't  you  suffer  a  great  deal  of  pain  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  I  do  ;  but  then,  sir,  I  know  that  God  would 
not  send  it  if  it  was  not  best  for  me,  so  I  am  willing  to 
bear  it  j  besides,  I  know  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  suffered 


THE   HAPPY   CHILD  343 

more  pain  for  me  than  I  suffer.  There  are  some  beautiful 
hymns  about  it  in  this  book,"  he  added,  taking  up  his  little 
hymn-book  ;  "  and  then  I  have  my  Bible.  Oh,  I  don't  know 
how  I  could  get  along  if  it  were  not  for  that." 

"  But  are  you  never  unhappy  when  you  see  other  boys 
jumping  and  playing  about  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  not ;  I  know  God  knows  what  is  best  for  me ; 
besides,  my  Saviour  comforts  me.  I  love  to  lie  here,  when 
it  is  all  still,  and  I  think  about  him." 

"  Don't  you  hope  that  sometime  you  will  get  well,  and 
be  able  to  go  about  again  ?  " 

"  No,  I  know  that  I  can't ;  I  shall  not  live  a  great  while ; 
they  all  say  so." 

"  And  don't  you  feel  afraid  to  die  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  feel  as  if  I  would  be  glad  to.  I  long  to  see 
my  Saviour.  All  I  feel  sad  about  is,  that  mother  will  be 
lonesome  when  I  am  gone." 

"  Well,  my  little  boy,  if  there  is  anything  that  I  can  send 
you  to  make  you  more  comfortable,  I  shall  be  glad  to." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir  ;  but  I  don't  know  as  I  want  any 
thing." 

"  I  wish  I  could  relieve  your  pains,  my  little  fellow," 
said  Mr.  Thompson. 

"  God  would  do  it  in  a  minute,  if  it  was  only  best  for 
me,"  said  the  boy ;  "  and  if  it  is  not  best,  I  had  rather  he 
would  not  do  it.  Besides,  I  think  I  am  happier  now  than 
I  used  to  be  when  I  was  well." 

"  Ah  !  how  can  that  be  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  love  God  so  much  then,  and  I  used  to  forget 
to  read  my  Bible.  I  had  not  so  much  pleasure  in  thinking 
about  heaven,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"You  remember,"  said  Mr.  Thompson,  "it  says  in  the 
Bible,  l  Before  I  was  afflicted  I  went  astray ;  but  now  have 
I  kept  thy  word.'  " 

"  That  is  just  it,  sir,"  said  the  boy  ;  "just  the  way  I  feel. 
Oh,  I  've  been  very  happy  since  I  have  been  sick  here." 


344      OUR  CHAKLEY  AND  THE   STORIES   TOLD  HIM 

Edward  and  Robert  looked  at  their  father,  at  these  words. 
Mr.  Thompson  now  rose  to  go. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  perhaps  the  boys  would  like  some  of 
my  flowers  ;  there  is  a  beautiful  root  of  pinks  there,  and 
some  roses/7  said  the  sick  boy. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Edward,  "  we  won't  take  them  away  from 
you." 

"  Oh,  I  like  to  give  them  away,"  said  the  boy,  earnestly ; 
"do  take  some." 

"  Take  some,  my  dear  children ;  it  will  please  him,"  said 
Mr.  Thompson,  in  a  low  voice,  as  he  picked  a  few  and  gave 
to  each  of  the  boys  ;  and  then  added  aloud,  "  We  will  keep 
them  to  remember  you  by,  my  dear  little  fellow." 

As  they  parted  with  the  little  boy,  he  smiled  sweetly,  and 
put  out  his  hand,  and  added,  — 

"  If  you  '11  come  when  my  latest  rose-bush  is  in  blossom, 
I  '11  give  you  some  roses." 

"  Papa,"  said  Edward,  "  that  poor  little  boy  really  does 
seem  to  be  happy,  and  yet  he  is  poor  and  sick  and  in  pain ; 
and  he  has  very  few  things,  too.  It  is  strange  ;  he  is  cer 
tainly  a  great  deal  happier  than  James  Robertson." 

"Well,  I  can  tell  you  the  reason,"  said  his  father.  "It  is 
because  James  Robertson  is  a  selfish  boy  that  he  is  un 
happy  ;  from  morning  till  night  he  thinks  of  nothing  but 
how  to  please  himself.  His  father  and  mother  have  spent 
all  their  lives  in  contriving  ways  to  please  him,  and  have 
never  required  him  to  give  up  his  own  will  in  anything ; 
and  now  he  is  so  selfish  that  he  is  always  unhappy.  He 
does  not  love  God,  and  he  does  not  love  his  parents,  nor 
anything  else,  so  well  as  he  loves  himself  ;  and  such  a  boy 
will  always  be  unhappy.  And  the  reason  that  this  poor 
little  sick  boy  is  happy,  is  because  he  has  learned  to  love 
God,  his  Saviour,  better  than  anything  else,  and  to  find  all 
his  pleasure  in  trying  to  do  His  will  instead  of  his  own. 


THE  HAPPY  CHILD  345 

This  is  what  makes  him  peaceful.  If  he  did  not  love  God, 
and  love  to  give  up  his  will  to  Him,  and  to  bear  and  suffer 
whatever  He  thought  best,  how  miserable  he  would  be 
now  ! " 

"  He  would  be  very  fretful,  I  suppose,"  said  Edward ; 
"  I  'm  afraid  I  should  be." 

"  Yes,"  said  his  father  j  "  but  now,  when  he  has  learned 
to  give  up  entirely  to  the  will  of  his  heavenly  Father,  see 
how  he  seems  to  enjoy  his  flowers,  and  his  hymn-book, 
and  his  few  little  playthings.  He  enjoys  them  more  than 
James  Eobertson  enjoys  all  his  elegant  things.  Now,  my 
dear  boys,  remember  this  :  The  way  to  be  happy  is  to  have 
a  right  heart,  and  not  to  have  everything  given  to  us  that 
we  want." 


LITTLE  CAPTAIN  TROTT 

IT  has  become  fashionable  to  write  sketches  of  the  lives 
of  really  existing  worthies,  who  are  at  present  acting  their 
parts  with  more  or  less  success  on  the  stage  of  this  mortal 
life.  Among  them  all  there  is  none  who,  as  we  think, 
exerts  a  more  perceptible  influence,  makes  more  commotion, 
more  confusion,  more  comfort,  more  perplexity,  more  laugh 
ing,  and  more  crying  than  our  sprightly,  ingenious,  omni 
present,  ever-active  little  friend,  Captain  Trott. 

His  title  indicates  that  he  is  in  a  position  of  responsibil 
ity  and  command.  Nobody  would  infer  this,  from  his 
short  body,  his  dumpy  little  hands,  and  his  square,  padding 
little  feet,  his  curly  head,  his  ivory-fine  complexion,  and  his 
rather  singular  modes  of  treating  the  English  language ; 
yet,  should  the  question  be  put  at  this  moment  by  the  elec 
tric  telegraph,  to  the  million  families  of  our  land,  "  Who 
governs  and  rules  you  ?  "  the  reply  would  come  back,  as 
with  the  voice  of  many  waters,  "  Little  Trott."  Little 
Trott  has  more  influence  at  this  hour  in  these  United  States 
than  General  Grant  himself ! 

In  giving  a  sketch  of  his  personal  appearance,  we  are  em 
barrassed  by  the  remembrance  of  the  overweening  admira 
tion  he  always  contrives  to  excite  in  the  breasts  of  the  fem 
inine  part  of  creation.  A  million  women,  we  do  believe,  at 
this  very  hour,  if  we  should  draw  his  picture,  would  be 
ready  to  tear  our  eyes  out  for  the  injustice  done  him. 
That  the  picture  of  our  little  Trott,  forsooth  ?  What  is 
the  woman  thinking  of  ?  She  does  not  know,  she  never 
can  know,  she  had  no  senses  to  perceive,  half  how  beautiful 


LITTLE   CAPTAIN  TROTT  347 

he  is  !  So  say  all  the  mothers ;  and  the  grandmothers 
douhle-say  it,  and  are  ready  to  shoot  you  if  you  doubt  it ; 
and  the  aunties  and  sisters  reiterate  it ;  and  even  the  papas 
—  who,  as  heads  of  the  women  and  lords  of  creation,  are 
supposed  to  take  more  sensible  and  impartial  views  of  mat 
ters  and  things  —  go  hook  and  line,  bob  and  sinker  into  the 
general  current.  The  papas  are,  if  anything,  even  sillier 
and  more  beside  themselves  with  admiration  than  the  mam 
mas.  Trott  is,  in  their  eyes,  a  miracle  of  nature.  They 
gaze  at  him  with  round  eyes  of  wonder ;  they  are  really 
ashamed  of  themselves  for  their  inebriate  state  of  admira 
tion,  and  endeavor  to  draw  over  it  a  veil  of  reticent  gravity  ; 
but  it  leaks  out  of  every  cranny,  and  oozes  out  of  every 
pore,  that  the  man  is,  as  our  negro  friends  say,  "  done  gone 
over"  in  admiration  of  little  Trott.  His  administration, 
therefore,  is  a  highly  popular  one,  and  we  run  some  risk  in 
instituting  anything  like  a  criticism  upon  it.  There  is,  of 
course,  as  in  all  popular  governments,  an  opposition  party, 
composed  principally  of  older  brothers  and  sisters,  crabbed 
old  bachelors,  and  serious-minded  maiden  ladies,  who  feel  it 
their  duty,  with  varying  success,  to  keep  up  a  protest  against 
Trott's  proceedings,  and  to  call  on  his  besotted  admirers  to 
be  on  their  guard  against  his  wiles,  and  even  go  so  far  as  to 
prophesy  that,  if  not  well  looked  after,  he  may  one  day  ruin 
the  country.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  is  a  delicate 
matter  to  deliver  our  opinion  of  Trott,  but  we  shall  endeavor 
to  do  it  with  impartial  justice.  We  shall  speak  our  honest 
opinion  of  his  accomplishments,  his  virtues,  and  his  vices, 
be  the  consequences  what  they  may. 

And  first  we  think  that  nobody  can  refuse  to  Captain 
Trott  the  award  of  industry  and  energy. 

He  is  energy  itself.  He  believes  in  early  rising,  and, 
like  all  others  who  practice  this  severe  virtue,  is  of  opinion 
that  it  is  a  sin  for  anybody  to  sleep  after  he  is  awake. 
Therefore  he  commences  to  whistle  and  crow,  and  pick  open 


348  LITTLE   CAPTAIN  TROTT 

the  eyes  of  papa  and  mamma  with  his  fat  fingers,  long  "be 
fore  "  Aurora  crimsons  the  east/'  as  the  poet  says.  For 
those  hapless  sinners  who  love  the  dear  iniquity  of  morning 
naps  Trott  has  no  more  mercy  than  a  modern  reformer ; 
and,  like  a  modern  reformer,  he  makes  no  exceptions  for 
circumstances.  If  he  is  wide-awake  and  refreshed,  it  makes 
no  difference  to  him  that  mamma  was  up  half  a  dozen 
times  the  night  before  to  warm  his  milk  and  perform  other 
handmaid  offices  for  his  lordship ;  or  that  papa  was  late  at 
his  office,  and  did  not  get  asleep  till  twelve  o'clock.  Up 
they  must  get ;  laziness  is  not  to  be  indulged ;  morning 
naps  are  an  abomination  to  his  soul ;  and  he  wants  his 
breakfast  at  the  quickest  conceivable  moment,  that  he  may 
enter  on  the  duty  of  the  day. 

This  duty  may  be  briefly  defined  as  the  process  of  culti 
vating  the  heavenly  virtue  of  patience  in  the  mind  of  his 
mother  and  of  the  family  and  the  community  generally. 
He  commences  the  serious  avocations  of  the  day  after  a 
shower  of  kisses,  adorned  by  fleeting  dimples  and  sparkling 
glances.  While  mamma  is  hastily  dressing,  he  slyly  upsets 
the  wash-pitcher  on  the  carpet,  and  sits  a  pleased  spectator 
of  the  instant  running  and  fussing  which  is  the  result.  If 
there  is  a  box  of  charcoal  tooth-powder  within  reach, 
he  now  contrives  to  force  that  open  and  scatter  its  contents 
over  his  nightgown  and  the  carpet,  thus  still  further  increas 
ing  the  confusion.  If  he  is  scolded,  he  immediately  falls 
on  his  mother's  neck,  and  smothers  her  with  sooty  kisses. 
While  taking  his  bath,  he  insists  on  sucking  the  sponge, 
and  splashing  the  water  all  over  his  mother's  neat  morning- 
wrapper.  If  this  process  is  stopped,  he  shows  the  strength 
of  his  lungs  in  violent  protests,  which  so  alarm  the  poor 
woman  for  the  character  of  the  family,  that  she  is  forced  to 
compromise  with  him  by  letting  him  have  a  bright  pincush 
ion,  or  her  darling  gold  watch,  or  some  other  generally  for 
bidden  object  to  console  him.  This,  of  course,  he  splashes 


LITTLE  CAPTAIN  TKOTT  349 

into  the  water  forthwith,  and  fights  her  if  she  attempts  to 
take  it  away  ;  for  Trott  is  a  genuine  red  republican  in  the 
doctrine  of  his  own  right  to  have  his  own  way.  Then  he 
follows  her  up  through  the  day,  knowing  exactly  when  and 
where  to  put  himself  in  her  way,  in  fulfilment  of  his  import 
ant  mission  of  perfecting  her  in  patience.  If  she  be  going 
up-stairs  with  baby  in  her  arms,  Trott  catches  her  about  the 
knees,  or  hangs  on  to  her  gown  behind,  with  most  persistent 
affection. 

In  the  kitchen,  if  she  be  superintending  verdant  Erin  in 
the  preparation  of  some  mysterious  dish,  Trott  must  be 
there,  and  Trott  must  help.  With  infinite  fussing  and  tip 
toe  efforts,  he  pulls  over  on  his  head  a  pan  of  syrup,  —  and 
the  consequences  of  this  movement  all  our  female  friends 
see  without  words. 

Is  there  company  to  dinner,  and  no  dessert,  and  stupid 
Biddy  utterly  unable  to  compass  the  difficulties  of  a  boiled 
custard,  then  mamma  is  to  the  fore,  and  Trott  also.  Just 
at  the  critical  moment,  —  the  moment  of  projection,  —  a 
loud  scream  from  Trott  announces  that  he  has  fallen  head 
first  into  the  rain-water  butt !  The  custard  is  spoiled,  but 
the  precious  darling  Trott  is  saved,  and  wiped  up,  and  comes 
out,  fresh  and  glowing,  to  proclaim  to  his  delighted  admirers 
that  he  still  lives. 

Thus  much  on  Trott' s  energy  and  industry,  but  who  shall 
describe  the  boundless  versatility  of  his  genius  ?  Versatility 
is  Trott's  forte.  In  one  single  day  he  will  bring  to  pass  a 
greater  variety  of  operations  than  are  even  thought  of  in 
Congress,  —  much  as  they  may  do  there,  —  and  he  is  so 
persevering  and  industrious  about  it ! 

He  has  been  known,  while  mamma  is  busy  over  some 
bit  of  fine  work  at  her  sewing-machine,  to  pad  into  the  pan 
try  and  contrive  machinery  for  escalading  the  flour-barrel, 
which  has  enabled  him  at  last  to  plump  himself  fairly  into 
the  soft,  downy  interior,  which  he  can  now  throw  up  over 


350  LITTLE   CAPTAIN   TROTT 

his  head  in  chuckling  transport,  powdering  his  curls  till  he 
looks  like  a  cherub  upon  a  Louis  Quatorze  china  teacup. 
Taken  out,  while  his  mother  is  looking  for  fresh  clothes  in 
the  drawer,  he  hastens  to  plunge  his  head  into  the  washbowl 
to  clean  it.  He  besets  pussy,  who  runs  at  the  very  sight  of 
him.  He  has  often  tried  to  perform  surgical  operations  on 
her  eyes  with  mamma's  scissors ;  but  pussy,  having  no  soul 
to  save,  has  no  interest  in  being  made  perfect  through  suf 
fering,  and  therefore  gives  him  a  wide  berth.  Nevertheless, 
Trott  sometimes  catches  her  asleep,  and  once  put  her  head 
downward  into  a  large  stone  water-jar,  before  she  had  really 
got  enough  awake  to  comprehend  the  situation.  Her  tail, 
convulsively  waving  as  a  signal  of  distress,  alone  called 
attention  to  the  case,  and  deprived  her  of  the  honor  of  an 
obituary  notice.  But,  mind  you,  had  pussy  died,  what 
mamma  and  grandma  and  auntie  would  not  have  taken 
Trott's  part  against  all  the  pussies  in  the  world  ?  "  Poor 
little  fellow !  he  must  do  something ;  "  and  "  After  all,  the 
cat  was  n't  much  of  a  mouser ;  served  her  right ;  and  was  n't 
it  cunning  of  him  ?  "  And,  my  dear  friend,  if  Trott  some 
day,  when  you  are  snoozing  after  dinner,  should  take  a 
fancy  to  serve  you  as  Jael  did  Sisera,  your  fate  would 
scarcely  excite  any  other  comment.  The  "  poor  dear  little 
fellow  "  would  still  be  the  hero  of  the  house,  and  you  the 
sinner,  who  had  no  business  to  put  yourself  in  his  way. 
This  last  sentence  was  interpolated  here  by  my  crabbed 
bachelor  uncle,  Mr.  Herod  Killchild,  who  cannot,  of  course, 
be  considered  as  dispassionate  authority.  In  fact,  an  open 
feud  rages  between  Uncle  Herod  and  Trott ;  and  he  only 
holds  his  position  in  the  family  circle  because  the  women 
folks  are  quick-witted  enough  to  perceive  that,  after  all,  he 
is  in  his  heart  as  silly  about  Trott  as  any  of  them.  He  has 
more  than  once  been  detected  watching  the  little  captain's 
antics  over  the  top  of  his  newspaper,  and  slyly  snickering 
to  himself  as  he  followed  his  operations  while  at  the  same 


LITTLE   CAPTAIN   TROTT  351 

moment  his  mouth  was  ostensibly  full  of  cursing  and  bitter 
ness.  Once,  when  Trott  was  very,  very  sick  indeed,  Uncle 
Herod  lost  his  rest  nights,  —  he  declared  it  was  only  indi 
gestion  ;  his  eyes  watered,  —  he  declared  that  it  was  only  a 
severe  cold.  But  all  these  symptoms  marvelously  disap 
peared  when  Trott,  as  his  manner  is,  suddenly  got  well  and 
came  out  good  as  new,  and  tenfold  more  busy  and  noisy 
than  ever.  Then  Uncle  Herod  remarked  dryly  that  "  he 
had  hoped  to  be  rid  of  that  torment/'  and  mamma  laughed. 
Who  minds  Uncle  Herod  ? 

We  have  spoken  of  Trott's  industry,  energy,  and  ver 
satility  ;  we  must  speak  also  of  his  perseverance.  This  is 
undeniably  a  great  virtue,  as  all  my  readers  who  have  ever 
written  in  old-fashioned  copy-books  will  remember.  Trott' s 
persistence  and  determination  to  carry  his  points  and  have 
his  own  way  are  traits  that  must  excite  the  respect  of  the 
beholder. 

When  he  has  a  point  to  carry,  it  must  be  a  wise  mamma, 
and  a  still  wiser  papa,  that  can  withstand  him,  for  his  ways 
and  wiles  are  past  finding  out.  He  tries  all  means  and 
measures, — kissing,  cajoling,  coaxing;  and,  these  proving 
ineffectual,  storming,  crying,  threatening,  fighting  fate  with 
both  of  his  chubby  fists,  and  squaring  off  at  the  powers 
that  be  with  a  valor  worthy  of  a  soldier. 

There  are  the  best  hopes  of  the  little  captain,  if  he  keeps 
up  equal  courage  and  vigor,  some  future  day,  when  he  shall 
lead  the  armies  of  the  republic. 

If,  however,  Trott  is  routed,  as  sometimes  occurs,  it  is  to 
be  said  to  his  credit  that  he  displays  great  magnanimity. 
He  will  come  up  and  kiss  and  be  friends,  after  a  severe 
skirmish  with  papa,  and  own  himself  beaten  in  the  hand 
somest  manner. 

But,  like  a  true,  cunning  politician,  when  beaten,  he  does 
not  give  up.  There  is  many  a  reserved  wile  under  his 
mat  of  curls  yet,  and  he  still  meditates  some  future  victory  ; 


352  LITTLE   CAPTAIN   TROTT 

and,  sooth  to  say,  after  a  running  fire  of  some  weeks, 
Trott  often  carries  his  point,  and  establishes  his  right  to 
take  certain  household  liberties,  in  spite  of  the  protest  of 
the  whole  family  republic. 

"  Well,  what  can  you  do  with  him  ?  we  can't  be  fighting 
him  always,"  are  the  usual  terms  which  announce  the  sur 
render. 

And  did  not  our  Congress  do  about  the  same  thing  with 
President  Johnson  ?  The  fact  is,  when  you  've  got  a  chief 
magistrate,  you  can't  fight  him  all  the  time,  and  Trott  is 
the  chief  magistrate  of  the  family  state. 

The  opposition  party  in  the  government,  consisting  al 
ways  of  people  who  never  had  or  are  like  to  have  Trotts  of 
their  own  to  take  care  of,  are  always  largely  blaming  those 
who  submit  to  him.  They  insist  upon  it  that  minute 
rules  should  be  made,  and  Trott  made  to  understand  what 
is  meant  by  the  reign  of  law. 

Law  ?  We  would  like  to  see  the  code  that  could  com 
pass  and  forbid  Trott' s  unheard-of  inventions.  He  always 
surprises  you  by  doing  just  the  thing  you  never  could  have 
conceived  of,  and  through  it  all  his  intentions  are  so  excel 
lent  !  He  sees  mamma  rubbing  her  head  with  hair-oil, 
and  forthwith  dips  his  hand  in  a  varnish-pot  and  rubs  his 
own  mat  of  curls.  He  sees  Biddy  squeeze  bluing  into  the 
rinsing-water,  and,  watching  his  opportunity,  throws  the 
bluing-bag  into  the  soup-kettle.  You  have  oil  paints  put 
away  in  a  deep  recess  in  the  closet.  Of  course  he  goes 
straight  to  them,  squeezes  all  the  tubes  together,  and  makes 
a  pigment  with  which  he  anoints  his  face  and  hands  and 
the  carpet,  giving  an  entirely  new  view  of  a  work  of  art. 
"  Who  would  have  thought,  now,  that  he  could  have  ?  " 
etc.,  is  the  usual  refrain  after  these  occurrences. 

The  maxim  that  "  silence  is  golden  "  does  not  apply  to 
Trott.  Much  as  his  noise  may  make  mamma's  head  ache, 
it  is  nothing  to  the  fearful  apprehensions  excited  by  his 


LITTLE   CAPTAIN  TEOTT  353 

silence.  If  Trott  is  still  ten  minutes,  or  even  five,  look 
out  for  a  catastrophe.  He  may  be  tasting  bug-poison,  or 
clawing  the  canary-bird  out  of  the  cage,  or  practicing  writ 
ing  on  papa's  last  Art  Union,  or  eating  a  whole  box  of 
pills,  or  picking  mamma's  calla  bud,  or,  taken  with  a  sud 
den  fit  of  household  usefulness,  be  washing  the  front  of 
the  bureau  drawer  with  a  ten-dollar  bill  which  he  has 
picked  out  of  it ! 

Sleep  is  usually  considered  a  gracious  state  for  Trott, 
but  he  has  too  intense  a  sense  of  his  responsibility  to  lose 
much  time  in  this  way,  especially  if  mamma  is  to  have 
company  to  dinner,  or  has  any  very  perplexing  and  trying 
bit  of  household  work  to  do.  Under  these  circumstances 
Trott  never  can  sleep.  He  is  intensely  interested ;  he 
cannot  let  her  go  a  moment. 

There  have  been  as  many  books  written  as  there  are 
stars  in  the  skies  concerning  the  vexed  question  of  Trott's 
government,  and  concerning  the  constitutional  limits  of  his 
rights  and  those  of  the  older  and  bigger  world. 

And  still  that  subject  seems  to  be  involved  in  mystery. 
Some  few  points  only  are  clear,  —  Trott  must  not  be  al 
lowed  to  make  a  bonfire  of  the  paternal  mansion,  or  stick 
the  scissors  in  his  mother's  eyes,  or  cut  his  own  throat 
with  his  father's  razor.  Short  of  this  "  the  constitutional 
limits,"  as  we  say,  are  very  undefined.  And  if  you  under 
take  to  restrict  him  much,  you  will  have  all  the  fathers 
and  mothers  in  the  land  on  your  back,  who  with  one  voice 
insist  that,  though  Trott  may  have  his  faults,  like  all 
things  human,  yet  he  is  a  jolly  little  fellow,  and  they 
prefer,  on  the  whole,  to  let  him  do  just  about  as  he  does 
do,  and  don't  want  any  advice  on  that  subject. 

Of  course,  his  administration  bears  hard  on  the  minority, 
and  it  is  sometimes  a  question  whether  anybody  else  in  the 
house  has  any  rights  which  Trott  is  bound  to  respect.  So 
much  the  worse  for  the  minority.  We  should  like  to 
know  what  they  are  going  to  do  about  it  ? 


354  LITTLE   CAPTAIN   TROTT 

There  is  one  comfort  in  this  view  of  the  subject.  All 
the  wonderful  men  of  the  world  have  been  Trotts  in  their 
day ;  have  badgered  and  tormented  their  mammas  till 
they  trained  them  up  into  a  meetness  for  Heaven,  and  then 
have  come,  in  their  turn,  to  be  governed  by  other  Trotts, 
—  for  in  this  kingdom  the  king  never  dies,  or,  rather,  to 
put  it  in  a  modern  form,  in  this  republic  there  is  always  a 
president. 

Well,  after  all,  our  hearts  are  very  soft  towards  the  little 
deluding  Captain.  The  very  thought  that  the  house  might 
some  day  be  without  his  mischief  and  merriment  and  the 
patter  of  his  little  stubbed  feet,  causes  us  a  hard  lump  in 
our  throats  at  once.  No  noise  of  misrule  and  merriment, 
however  deafening,  where  Trott  reigns  triumphant,  can  be 
so  dreadful  as  the  silence  in  the  house  where  he  once  has 
been,  but  is  to  be  no  more. 

"  The  mother  in  the  sunshine  sits 
Beside  the  cottage  wall, 
And,  slowly,  slowly  as  she  knits, 
Her  quiet  tears  down  fall. 
Her  little  hindering  thing  is  gone, 
And  undisturbed  she  may  knit  on." 

When  we  think  of  those  short  little  mounds  in  Green 
wood  and  Mount  Auburn,  we  go  in  for  patient  submission 
to  Trott  with  all  his  faults,  rather  than  the  dismalness  of 
being  without  him.  His  hold  is  on  our  heart-strings,  and 
reign  over  us  he  must. 

We  are  reminded,  too,  how,  years  and  years  ago,  the 
Dearest,  Wisest,  and  Greatest  that  ever  lived  on  earth  took 
little  Trott  on  his  knee,  and  said,  "Whosoever  shall  re 
ceive  one  of  such  children,  in  my  name,  receiveth  me  "  ; 
"  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Trott  was  doubtless  as  full  of  motion  and  mischief  in 
those  days  as  in  these  ;  but  the  Divine  eyes  saw  through  it 
all,  into  that  great  mystery  making  little  Trott  the  father 
of  whatever  is  great  and  good  in  the  future. 


CHKISTMAS;    OR,    THE  GOOD   FAIRY 

"  Oh,  DEAR  !  Christmas  is  coming  in  a  fortnight,  and  I 
have  got  to  think  up  presents  for  everybody !  "  said  young 
Ellen  Stuart,  as  she  leaned  languidly  back  in  her  chair. 
"  Dear  me,  it 's  so  tedious  !  Everybody  has  got  everything 
that  can  be  thought  of." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  her  confidential  adviser,  Miss  Lester,  in 
a  soothing  tone.  "  You  have  means  of  buying  everything 
you  can  fancy ;  and  when  every  shop  and  store  is  glittering 
with  all  manner  of  splendors,  you  cannot  surely  be  at  a  loss." 

"  Well,  now,  just  listen.  To  begin  with,  there 's 
mamma.  What  can  I  get  for  her  ?  I  have  thought  of 
ever  so  many  things.  She  has  three  card  cases,  four  gold 
thimbles,  two  or  three  gold  chains,  two  writing  desks  of 
different  patterns ;  and  then  as  to  rings,  brooches,  boxes, 
and  all  other  things,  I  should  think  she  might  be  sick  of 
the  sight  of  them.  I  am  sure  I  am,"  said  she,  languidly 
gazing  on  her  white  and  jeweled  fingers. 

This  view  of  the  case  seemed  rather  puzzling  to  the  ad 
viser,  and  there  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  when  Ellen, 
yawning,  resumed  :  — 

"  And  then  there  's  cousins  Jane  and  Mary ;  I  suppose 
they  will  be  coming  down  on  me  with  a  whole  load  of  pres 
ents  ;  and  Mrs.  B.  will  send  me  something  —  she  did  last 
year ;  and  then  there  's  cousins  William  and  Tom  —  I 
must  get  them  something ;  and  I  would  like  to  do  it  well 
enough,  if  I  only  knew  what  to  get." 

"  Well,"  said  Eleanor's  aunt,  who  had  been  sitting  quietly 
rattling  her  knitting  needles  during  this  speech,  "  it 's  a 


356  CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY 

pity  that  you  had  not  such  a  subject  to  practice  on  as  I  was 
when  I  was  a  girl.  Presents  did  not  fly  about  in  those 
days  as  they  do  now.  I  remember,  when  I  was  ten  years 
old,  my  father  gave  me  a  most  marvelously  ugly  sugar  dog 
for  a  Christmas  gift,  and  I  was  perfectly  delighted  with  it, 
the  very  idea  of  a  present  was  so  new  to  us.'7 

"  Dear  aunt,  how  delighted  I  should  be  if  I  had  any  such 
fresh,  unsophisticated  body  to  get  presents  for  !  But  to  get 
and  get  for  people  that  have  more  than  they  know  what  to 
do  with  now ;  to  add  pictures,  books,  and  gilding  when  the 
centre  tables  are  loaded  with  them  now,  and  rings  and  jew 
els  when  they  are  a  perfect  drug !  I  wish  myself  that  I 
were  not  sick,  and  sated,  and  tired  with  having  everything 
in  the  world  given  me." 

"  Well,  Eleanor,"  said  her  aunt,  "  if  you  really  do  want 
unsophisticated  subjects  to  practice  on,  I  can  put  you  in  the 
way  of  it.  I  can  show  you  more  than  one  family  to  whom 
you  might  seem  to  be  a  very  good  fairy,  and  where  such 
gifts  as  you  could  give  with  all  ease  would  seem  like  a 
magic  dream." 

"  Why,  that  would  really  be  worth  while,  aunt." 

"  Look  over  in  that  back  alley,"  said  her  aunt.  "  You 
see  those  buildings  ?  " 

"  That  miserable  row  of  shanties  ?     Yes." 

"  Well,  I  have  several  acquaintances  there  who  have 
never  been  tired  of  Christmas  gifts  or  gifts  of  any  other 
kind.  I  assure  you,  you  could  make  quite  a  sensation  over 
there." 

"  Well,  who  is  there  ?     Let  us  know." 

"Do  you  remember  Owen,  that  used  to  make  your 
shoes  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  remember  something  about  him." 

"Well,  he  has  fallen  into  a  consumption,  and  cannot 
work  any  more  ;  and  he,  and  his  wife,  and  three  little  chil 
dren  live  in  one  of  the  rooms." 


CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY  357 

"  How  do  they  get  along  ?  " 

"  His  wife  takes  in  sewing  sometimes,  and  sometimes 
goes  out  washing.  Poor  Owen  !  I  was  over  there  yester 
day  ;  he  looks  thin  and  wasted,  and  his  wife  was  saying 
that  he  was  parched  with  constant  fever,  and  had  very  little 
appetite.  She  had,  with  great  self-denial,  and  by  restrict 
ing  herself  almost  of  necessary  food,  got  him  two  or  three 
oranges  ;  and  the  poor  fellow  seemed  so  eager  after  them." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "   said  Eleanor,  involuntarily. 

"  Now,'7  said  her  aunt,  "  suppose  Owen's  wife  should 
get  up  on  Christmas  morning  and  find  at  the  door  a  couple 
of  dozen  of  oranges,  and  some  of  those  nice  white  grapes, 
such  as  you  had  at  your  party  last  week ;  don't  you  think 
it  would  make  a  sensation  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  I  think  very  likely  it  might ;  but  who  else, 
aunt  ?  You  spoke  of  a  great  many." 

"  Well,  on  the  lower  floor  there  is  a  neat  little  room, 
that  is  always  kept  perfectly  trim  and  tidy  ;  it  belongs  to  a 
young  couple  who  have  nothing  beyond  the  husband's  day 
wages  to  live  on.  They  are,  nevertheless,  as  cheerful  and 
chipper  as  a  couple  of  wrens  ;  and  she  is  up  and  down  half 
a  dozen  times  a  day,  to  help  poor  Mrs.  Owen.  She  has  a 
baby  of  her  own  about  five  months  old,  and  of  course  does 
all  the  cooking,  washing,  and  ironing  for  herself  and  hus 
band  ;  and  yet,  when  Mrs.  Owen  goes  out  to  wash,  she  takes 
her  baby,  and  keeps  it  whole  days  for  her." 

"I'm  sure  she  deserves  that  the  good  fairies  should 
smile  on  her,"  said  Eleanor  ;  "  one  baby  exhausts  my  stock 
of  virtues  very  rapidly." 

"  But  you  ought  to  see  her  baby,"  said  Aunt  E.  ;  "  so 
plump,  so  rosy,  and  good-natured,  and  always  clean  as  a 
lily.  This  baby  is  a  sort  of  household  shrine  ;  nothing  is 
too  sacred  or  too  good  for  it ;  and  I  believe  the  little  thrifty 
woman  feels  only  one  temptation  to  be  extravagant,  and 
that  is  to  get  some  ornaments  to  adorn  this  little  divinity." 


358  CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY 

"  Why,  did  she  ever  tell  you  so  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  one  day,  when  I  was  coming  down  stairs,  the 
door  of  their  room  was  partly  open,  and  I  saw  a  peddler 
there  with  open  box.  John,  the  husband,  was  standing 
with  a  little  purple  cap  on  his  hand,  which  he  was  regard 
ing  with  mystified,  admiring  air,  as  if  he  did  n't  quite  com 
prehend  it,  and  trim  little  Mary  gazing  at  it  with  longing 
eyes. 

" 1 1  think  we  might  get  it/  said  John. 

"  '  Oh,  no/  said  she,  regretfully  ;  '  yet  I  wish  we  could, 
it 's  so  pretty  ! '  " 

"  Say  no  more,  aunt.  I  see  the  good  fairy  must  pop  a 
cap  into  the  window  on  Christinas  morning.  Indeed,  it 
shall  be  done.  How  they  will  wonder  where  it  came  from, 
and  talk  about  it  for  months  to  come  !  " 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  her  aunt,  "  in  the  next  street 
to  ours  there  is  a  miserable  building,  that  looks  as  if  it  were 
just  going  to  topple  over ;  and  away  up  in  the  third  story, 
in  a  little  room  just  under  the  eaves,  live  two  poor,  lonely 
old  women.  They  are  both  nearly  on  to  ninety.  I  was  in 
there  day  before  yesterday.  One  of  them  is  constantly  con 
fined  to  her  bed  with  rheumatism  ;  the  other,  weak  and 
feeble,  with  failing  sight  and  trembling  hands,  totters  about, 
her  only  helper ;  and  they  are  entirely  dependent  on 
charity." 

"  Can't  they  do  anything  ?  Can't  they  knit  ?  "  said 
Eleanor. 

"  You  are  young  and  strong,  Eleanor,  and  have  quick 
eyes  and  nimble  fingers ;  how  long  would  it  take  you  to 
knit  a  pair  of  stockings  ?  " 

"I  ?  "  said  Eleanor.  "  What  an  idea  !  I  never  tried, 
but  I  think  I  could  get  a  pair  done  in  a  week,  perhaps." 

"  And  if  somebody  gave  you  twenty-five  cents  for  them, 
and  out  of  this  you  had  to  get  food,  and  pay  room  rent,  and 
buy  coal  for  your  fire,  and  oil  for  your  lamp  — " 


CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY  359 

"  Stop,  aunt,  for  pity's  sake  !  " 

"  Well,  1  will  stop  ;  but  they  can't  :  they  must  pay  so 
much  every  month  for  that  miserable  shell  they  live  in,  or 
be  turned  into  the  street.  The  meal  and  flour  that  some 
kind  person  sends  goes  off  for  them  just  as  it  does  for 
others,  and  they  must  get  more  or  starve  ;  and  coal  is  now 
scarce  and  high  priced." 

"  0  aunt,  I  'm  quite  convinced,  I  ?m  sure  ;  don't  run  me 
down  and  annihilate  me  with  all  these  terrible  realities. 
What  shall  I  do  to  play  good  fairy  to  these  old  women  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  give  me  full  power,  Eleanor,  I  will  put  up 
a  basket  to  be  sent  to  them  that  will  give  them,  something 
to  remember  all  winter." 

"  Oh,  certainly  I  will.  Let  me  see  if  I  can't  think  of 
something  myself." 

"  Well,  Eleanor,  suppose,  then,  some  fifty  or  sixty  years 
hence,  if  you  were  old,  and  your  father,  and  mother,  and 
aunts,  and  uncles,  now  so  thick  around  you,  lay  cold  and 
silent  in  so  many  graves  —  you  have  somehow  got  away  off 
to  a  strange  city,  where  you  were  never  known  —  you  live 
in  a  miserable  garret,  where  snow  blows  at  night  through 
the  cracks,  and  the  fire  is  very  apt  to  go  out  in  the  old 
cracked  stove  —  you  sit  crouching  over  the  dying  embers 
the  evening  before  Christmas  —  nobody  to  speak  to  you, 
nobody  to  care  for  you,  except  another  poor  old  soul  who 
lies  moaning  in  the  bed.  Now,  what  would  you  like  to 
have  sent  you  ?  " 

"  0  aunt,  what  a  dismal  picture !  " 

"  And  yet,  Ella,  all  poor,  forsaken  old  women  are  made 
of  young  girls,  who  expected  it  in  their  youth  as  little  as 
you  do,  perhaps." 

"  Say  no  more,  aunt.  I  '11  buy  —  let  me  see  —  a  com 
fortable  warm  shawl  for  each  of  these  poor  women ;  and 
I'll  send  them — let  me  see  —  oh,  some  tea  —  nothing 
goes  down  with  old  women  like  tea  ;  and  I  '11  make  John 


360  CHRISTMAS;  OK,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY 

wheel  some  coal  over  to  them ;  and,,  aunt,  it  would  not  be 
a  very  bad  thought  to  send  them  a  new  stove.  I  remem 
ber,  the  other  day,  when  mamma  was  pricing  stoves,  I  saw 
some  such  nice  ones  for  two  or  three  dollars." 

"  For  a  new  hand,  Ella,  you  work  up  the  idea  very 
well,"  said  her  aunt. 

"  But  how  much  ought  I  to  give,  for  any  one  case,  to 
these  women,  say  ?  " 

"  How  much  did  you  give  last  year  for  any  single  Christ 
mas  present  ?  " 

"  Why,  six  or  seven  dollars  for  some ;  those  elegant  sou 
venirs  were  seven  dollars;  that  ring  I  gave  Mrs.  B.  was 
twenty." 

"  And  do  you  suppose  Mrs.  B.  was  any  happier  for  it  ?  " 

"  No,  really,  I  don't  think  she  cared  much  about  it ;  but 
I  had  to  give  her  something,  because  she  had  sent  me 
something  the  year  before,  and  I  did  not  want  to  send  a 
paltry  present  to  one  in  her  circumstances." 

"  Then,  Ella,  give  the  same  to  any  poor,  distressed,  suf 
fering  creature  who  really  needs  it,  and  see  in  how  many 
forms  of  good  such  a  sum  will  appear.  That  one  hard, 
cold,  glittering  ring,  that  now  cheers  nobody,  and  means 
nothing,  that  you  give  because  you  must,  and  she  takes 
because  she  must,  might,  if  broken  up  into  smaller  sums, 
send  real  warm  and  heartfelt  gladness  through  many  a  cold 
and  cheerless  dwelling,  through  many  an  aching  heart." 

"  You  are  getting  to  be  an  orator,  aunt ;  but  don't  you 
approve  of  Christmas  presents,  among  friends  and  equals  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  her  aunt,  fondly  stroking  her  head. 
"  I  have  had  some  Christmas  presents  that  did  me  a  world 
of  good  —  a  little  book  mark,  for  instance,  that  a  certain 
niece  of  mine  worked  for  me,  with  wonderful  secrecy,  three 
years  ago,  when  she  was  not  a  young  lady  with  a  purse  full 
of  money  —  that  book  mark  was  a  true  Christmas  present ; 
and  my  young  couple  across  the  way  are  plotting  a  profound 


CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY  361 

surprise  to  each  other  on  Christmas  morning.  John  has 
contrived,  by  an  hour  of  extra  work  every  night,  to  lay  by 
enough  to  get  Mary  a  new  calico  dress ;  and  she,  poor  soul, 
has  bargained  away  the  only  thing  in  the  jewelry  line  she 
ever  possessed,  to  be  laid  out  on  a  new  hat  for  him. 

"  I  know,  too,  a  washerwoman  who  has  a  poor  lame  boy 

—  a  patient,  gentle  little  fellow  —  who  has  lain  quietly  for 
weeks  and  months  in  his  little  crib,  and  his  mother  is  going 
to  give  him  a  splendid  Christmas  present." 

"  What  is  it,  pray  ?  " 

"  A  whole  orange !  Don't  laugh.  She  will  pay  ten 
whole  cents  for  it ;  for  it  shall  be  none  of  your  common 
oranges,  but  a  picked  one  of  the  very  best  going  !  She  has 
put  by  the  money,  a  cent  at  a  time,  for  a  whole  month ; 
and  nobody  knows  which  will  be  happiest  in  it,  Willie  or 
his  mother.  These  are  such  Christmas  presents  as  I  like 
to  think  of  —  gifts  coming  from  love,  and  tending  to  pro 
duce  love  ;  these  are  the  appropriate  gifts  of  the  day." 

"  But  don't  you  think  that  it 's  right  for  those  who  have 
money  to  give  expensive  presents,  supposing  always,  as  you 
say,  they  are  given  from  real  affection  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,  undoubtedly.  The  Saviour  did  not  condemn 
her  who  broke  an  alabaster  box  of  ointment  —  very  precious 

—  simply  as  a  proof  of  love,  even  although  the  suggestion 
was  made,   i  This  might  have  been  sold  for  three  hundred 
pence,  and  given  to  the  poor.'      I  have  thought  he  would 
regard  with  sympathy  the  fond  efforts  which  human  love 
sometimes  makes  to  express  itself  by  gifts,  the  rarest  and 
most    costly.     How  I    rejoiced  with  all    my   heart,   when 
Charles  Elton  gave  his  poor  mother  that  splendid  Chinese 
shawl  and  gold  watch  !   because  I  knew  they  came  from  the 
very  fulness  of  his  heart  to  a  mother  that  he  could  not  do 
too  much  for  —  a  mother  that  has  done  and  suffered  every 
thing  for  him.     In  some  such   cases,  when  resources   are 
ample,  a  costly  gift  seems  to  have  a  graceful  appropriateness ; 


362  CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY 

but  I  cannot  approve  of  it  if  it  exhausts  all  the  means  of 
doing  for  the  poor  ;  it  is  better,  then,  to  give  a  simple 
offering,  and  to  do  something  for  those  who  really  need  it." 

Eleanor  looked  thoughtful  ;  her  aunt  laid  down  her 
knitting,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  gentle  seriousness,  "  Whose 
birth  does  Christmas  commemorate,  Ella  ?  " 

"  Our  Saviour's,  certainly,  aunt." 

"  Yes,"  said  her  aunt.  "  And  when  and  how  was  he 
born  ?  In  a  stable !  laid  in  a  manger  ;  thus  born,  that  in 
all  ages  he  might  be  known  as  the  brother  and  friend  of  the 
poor.  And  surely,  it  seems  but  appropriate  to  commemo 
rate  his  birthday  by  an  especial  remembrance  of  the  lowly, 
the  poor,  the  outcast,  and  distressed ;  and  if  Christ  should 
come  back  to  our  city  on  a  Christmas  day,  where  should  we 
think  it  most  appropriate  to  his  character  to  find  him  ? 
Would  he  be  carrying  splendid  gifts  to  splendid  dwellings, 
or  would  he  be  gliding  about  in  the  cheerless  haunts  of  the 
desolate,  the  poor,  the  forsaken,  and  the  sorrowful  ?  " 

And  here  the  conversation  ended. 

"  What  sort  of  Christmas  presents  is  Ella  buying  ?  " 
said  Cousin  Tom,  as  the  waiter  handed  in  a  portentous- 
looking  package,  which  had  been  just  rung  in  at  the  door. 

"Let's  open  it,"  said  saucy  Will.  "Upon  my  word, 
two  great  gray  blanket  shawls  !  These  must  be  for  you 
and  me,  Tom  !  And  what 's  this  ?  A  great  bolt  of  cotton 
flannel  and  gray  yarn  stockings  !  " 

The  door  bell  rang  again,  and  the  waiter  brought  in  an 
other  bulky  parcel,  and  deposited  it  on  the  marble-topped 
centre  table. 

"  What  >s  here  ?  "  said  Will,  cutting  the  cord.  "  Whew  ! 
a  perfect  nest  of  packages !  oolong  tea  !  oranges  !  grapes ! 
white  sugar  !  Bless  me,  Ella  must  be  going  to  house 
keeping  !  " 

"  Or  going  crazy !  "  said  Tom  ;   "  and  on  my  word,"  said 


CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY  363 

he,  looking  out  of  the  window,  "  there  's  a  drayman  ringing 
at  our  door,  with  a  stove,  with  a  teakettle  set  in  the  top 
of  it !  " 

"  Ella's  cook  stove,  of  course,"  said  Will ;  and  just  at 
this  moment  the  young  lady  entered,  with  her  purse  hang 
ing  gracefully  over  her  hand. 

"  Now,  boys,  you  are  too  bad !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  each  of 
the  mischievous  youngsters  was  gravely  marching  up  and 
down,  attired  in  a  gray  shawl. 

"  Did  n't  you  get  them  for  us  ?  We  thought  you  did," 
said  both. 

"  Ella,  I  want  some  of  that  cotton  flannel,  to  make  me  a 
pair  of  pantaloons,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  say,  Ella,"  said  Will,  "  when  are  you  going  to  house 
keeping  ?  Your  cooking  stove  is  standing  down  in  the 
street ;  'pon  my  word,  John  is  loading  some  coal  on  the 
dray  with  it." 

"  Ella,  is  n't  that  going  to  be  sent  to  my  office  ? "  said 
Tom ;  "  do  you  know  I  do  so  languish  for  a  new  stove  with 
a  teakettle  in  the  top,  to  heat  a  fellow's  shaving- water !  " 

Just  then,  another  ring  at  the  door,  and  the  grinning 
waiter  handed  in  a  small  brown  paper  parcel  for  Miss  Ella. 
Tom  made  a  dive  at  it,  and  staving  off  the  brown  paper, 
developed  a  jaunty  little  purple  velvet  cap,  with  silver  tassels. 

"  My  smoking  cap,  as  I  live  ! "  said  he ;  "  only  I  shall 
have  to  wear  it  on  my  thumb,  instead  of  my  head  —  too 
small  entirely,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head  gravely. 

"  Come,  you  saucy  boys,"  said  Aunt  E.,  entering  briskly. 
"  what  are  you  teasing  Ella  for  ?  " 

"Why,  do  see  this  lot  of  things,  aunt!  What  in  the 
world  is  Ella  going  to  do  with  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  !  " 

"  You  know  !  Then  I  can  guess,  aunt,  it  is  some  of  your 
charitable  works.  You  are  going  to  make  a  juvenile  Lady 
Bountiful  of  El,  eh  ?  " 


364  CHRISTMAS;  OR,  THE  GOOD  FAIRY 

Ella,  who  had  colored  to  the  roots  of  her  hair  at  the  expose 
of  her  very  unfashionable  Christmas  preparations,  now  took 
heart,  and  bestowed  a  very  gentle  and  salutary  little  cuff  on 
the  saucy  head  that  still  wore  the  purple  cap,  and  then  has 
tened  to  gather  up  her  various  purchases. 

"  Laugh  away,"  said  she,  gayly ;  "  and  a  good  many  others 
will  laugh,  too,  over  these  things.  I  got  them  to  make 
people  laugh  —  people  that  are  not  in  the  habit  of  laugh- 
ing!" 

"  Well,  well,  I  see  into  it,"  said  Will ;  "  and  I  tell  you  I 
think  right  well  of  the  idea,  too.  There  are  worlds  of  money 
wasted,  at  this  time  of  the  year,  in  getting  things  that  nobody 
wants,  and  nobody  cares  for  after  they  are  got ;  and  I  am 
glad,  for  my  part,  that  you  are  going  to  get  up  a  variety  in 
this  line ;  in  fact,  I  should  like  to  give  you  one  of  these  stray 
leaves  to  help  on,"  said  he,  dropping  a  ten  dollar  note  into 
her  paper.  "  I  like  to  encourage  girls  to  think  of  something 
besides  breastpins  and  sugar  candy." 

But  our  story  spins  on  too  long.  If  anybody  wants  to 
see  the  results  of  Ella's  first  attempts  at  good  fairyism,  they 
can  call  at  the  doors  of  two  or  three  old  buildings  on  Christ 
mas  morning,  and  they  shall  hear  all  about  it. 


LITTLE  FEED,  THE  CANAL  BOY 
PABT   I 

IN  the  outskirts  of  Mie  little  town  of  Toledo,  in  Ohio, 
might  be  seen  a  small,  one-story  cottage,  whose  external 
architecture  in  no  way  distinguished  it  from  dozens  of  other 
residences  of  the  poor,  by  which  it  was  surrounded.  But 
over  this  dwelling,  a  presiding  air  of  sanctity  and  neatness, 
of  quiet  and  repose,  marked  it  out  as  different  from  every 
other. 

The  little  patch  before  the  door,  instead  of  being  a  loaf 
ing  ground  for  swine,  and  a  receptacle  of  litter  and  filth, 
was  trimly  set  with  flowers,  weeded,  watered,  and  fenced 
with  dainty  care.  The  scarlet  bignonia  clambered  over  the 
mouldering  logs  of  the  sides,  shrouding  their  roughness  in 
its  gorgeous  mantle  of  green  and  crimson,  and  the  good  old- 
fashioned  morning  glory,  laced  across  the  window,  unfolded 
every  day  tints  whose  beauty,  though  cheap  and  common, 
the  finest  French  milliner  might  in  vain  seek  to  rival. 

When,  in  traveling  the  western  country,  you  meet  such 
a  dwelling,  do  you  not  instinctively  know  what  you  shall 
see  inside  of  it  ?  Do  you  not  seem  to  see  the  trimly- 
sanded  floor,  the  well-kept  furniture,  the  snowy  muslin 
curtain  ?  Are  you  not  sure  that  on  a  neat  stand  you  shall 
see,  as  on  an  altar,  the  dear  old  family  Bible,  brought,  like 
the  ancient  ark  of  the  covenant,  into  the  far  wilderness,  and 
ever  overshadowed,  as  a  bright  cloud,  with  remembered 
prayers  and  counsels  of  father  and  mother,  in  a  far-off  New 
England  home  ? 


366  LITTLE  FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY 

And  in  this  cottage  there  was  such  a  Bible,  brought  from 
the  wild  hills  of  New  Hampshire,  and  its  middle  page  re 
corded  the  marriage  of  James  Sandford  to  Mary  Irving ; 
and  alas !  after  it  another  record,  traced  in  a  trembling 
hand  —  the  death  of  James  Sandford,  at  Toledo.  And 
this  fair,  thin  woman,  in  the  black  dress,  with  soft  brown 
hair  parted  over  a  pale  forehead,  with  calm,  patient  blue 
eyes,  and  fading  cheek,  is  the  once  energetic,  buoyant, 
light-hearted  New  Hampshire  girl,  who  has  brought  with 
her  the  strongest  religious  faith,  the  active  practical  know 
ledge,  the  skillful,  well-trained  hand  and  head,  with  which 
cold  New  England  portions  her  daughters.  She  had  left 
all,  and  come  to  the  western  wilds  with  no  other  capital 
than  her  husband's  manly  heart  and  active  brain  —  he 
young,  strong,  full  of  hope,  prompt,  energetic,  and  skilled 
to  acquire  — she  careful,  prudent,  steady,  no  less  skilled 
to  save ;  and  between  the  two  no  better  firm  for  acquisition 
and  prospective  success  could  be  desired.  Everybody  pro 
phesied  that  James  Sandford  would  succeed,  and  Mary 
heard  these  praises  with  a  quiet  exultation.  But  alas ! 
that  whole  capital  of  hers  —  that  one  strong,  young  heart, 
that  ready,  helpful  hand  —  two  weeks  of  the  country's  fe 
ver  sufficed  to  lay  them  cold  and  low  forever. 

And  Mary  yet  lived,  with  her  babe  in  her  arms,  and  one 
bright  little  boy  by  her  side ;  and  this  boy  is  our  little 
brown-eyed  Fred  —  the  hero  of  our  story.  But  few  years 
had  rolled  over  his  curly  head,  when  he  first  looked,  weep 
ing  and  wondering,  on  the  face  of  death.  Ah,  one  look  on 
that  awful  face  adds  years  at  once  to  the  age  of  the  heart ; 
and  little  Fred  felt  manly  thoughts  aroused  in  him  by  the 
cold  stillness  of  his  father,  and  the  deep,  calm  anguish  of 
his  mother. 

"  0  mamma,  don't  cry  so,  don't,"  said  the  little  fellow. 
"  I  am  alive,  and  I  can  take  care  of  you.  Dear  mamma,  I 
pray  for  you  every  day."  And  Mary  was  comforted  even 


LITTLE   FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY  367 

in  her  tears  and  thought,  as  she  looked  into  those  clear, 
loving  brown  eyes,  that  her  little  intercessor  would  not 
plead  in  vain ;  for  saith  Jesus,  "  Their  angels  do  always 
behold  the  face  of  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

In  a  few  days  she  learned  to  look  her  sorrows  calmly  in 
the  face,  like  a  brave,  true  woman,  as  she  was.  She  was  a 
widow,  and  out  of  the  sudden  wreck  of  her  husband's  plans 
but  a  pittance  remained  to  her,  and  she  cast  about,  with 
busy  hand  and  head,  for  some  means  to  eke  it  out.  She 
took  in  sewing  —  she  took  in  washing  and  ironing ;  and 
happy  did  the  young  exquisite  deem  himself  whose  shirts 
came  with  such  faultless  plaits,  such  snowy  freshness,  from 
the  slender  hands  of  Mary.  With  that  matchless  gift 
which  old  Yankee  housewives  call  faculty,  Mary  kept  to 
gether  all  the  ends  of  her  raveled  skein  of  life,  and  began 
to  make  them  wind  smoothly.  Her  baby  was  the  neatest 
of  all  babies,  as  it  was  assuredly  the  prettiest,  and  her  little 
Fred  the  handiest  and  most  universal  genius  of  all  boys. 
It  was  Fred  that  could  wring  out  all  the  stockings,  and 
hang  out  all  the  small  clothes,  that  tended  the  baby  by 
night  and  by  day,  that  made  her  a  wagon  out  of  an  old 
soap  box,  in  which  he  drew  her  in  triumph ;  and  at  their 
meals  he  stood  reverently  in  his  father's  place,  and  with 
folded  hands  repeated,  "Bless  the  Lord,  0  my  soul,  and 
forget  not  all  his  mercies ; "  and  his  mother's  heart  re 
sponded  amen  to  the  simple  prayer.  Then  he  learned, 
with  manifold  puffing  and  much  haggling,  to  saw  wood 
quite  decently,  and  to  swing  an  axe  almost  as  big  as  himself 
in  wood  splitting  ;  and  he  ran  of  errands,  and  did  business 
with  an  air  of  bustling  importance  that  was  edifying  to  see ; 
he  knew  the  prices  of  lard,  butter,  and  dried  apples,  as  well 
as  any  man  about,  and,  as  the  storekeeper  approvingly  told 
him,  was  a  smart  chap  at  a  bargain.  Fred  grew  three  inches 
higher  the  moment  he  heard  it. 

In  the  evenings,  after  the  baby  was  asleep,  Fred  sat  by 


368  LITTLE   FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY 

his  mother  with  slate  and  book,  deep  in  the  mysteries  of 
reading,  writing,  and  ciphering ;  and  then  the  mother  and 
son  talked  over  their  little  plans,  and  hallowed  their  nightly 
rest  by  prayer ;  and  when,  before  retiring,  his  mother  knelt 
with  him  by  his  little  bed  and  prayed,  the  child  often 
sobbed  with  a  strange  emotion,  for  which  he  could  give  no 
reason.  Something  there  is  in  the  voice  of  real  prayer  that 
thrills  a  child's  heart,  even  before  he  understands  it ;  the 
holy  tones  are  a  kind  of  heavenly  music,  and  far  off,  in  dis 
tant  years,  the  callous  and  worldly  man  often  thrills  to  his 
heart's  core  when  some  turn  of  life  recalls  to  him  his 
mother's  prayer. 

So  passed  the  first  years  of  the  life  of  Fred.  Mean 
while  his  little  sister  had  come  to  toddle  about  the  cottage 
floor  full  of  insatiable  and  immeasurable  schemes  of  mis 
chief.  It  was  she  that  upset  the  clothes  basket,  and  pulled 
over  the  molasses  pitcher  on  to  her  own  astonished  head, 
and  with  incredible  labor  upset  every  pail  of  water  that  by 
momentary  thoughtlessness  was  put  within  reach.  It  was 
she  that  was  found  stuffing  poor,  solemn  old  pussy  head 
first  into  the  water  jar,  that  wiped  up  the  floor  with  her 
mother's  freshly-ironed  clothes,  and  jabbered,  meanwhile,  in 
most  unexampled  Babylonish  dialect,  her  own  vindications 
and  explanations  of  these  misdemeanors.  Every  day  her 
mother  declared  that  she  must  begin  to  get  that  child  into 
some  kind  of  order ;  but  still  the  merry  little  curly  pate 
contemned  law  and  order,  and  laughed  at  all  ideas  of  retri 
butive  justice,  and  Fred  and  his  mother  laughed  and  de 
plored,  in  the  same  invariable  succession,  the  various  dire 
ful  results  of  her  activity  and  enterprise. 

But  still,  as  Mary  toiled  on,  heavy  cares  weighed  down 
her  heart.  Her  boy  grew  larger  and  larger,  and  her  own 
health  grew  feebler  in  proportion  as  it  needed  to  be  stronger. 
Sometimes  a  whole  week  at  a  time  found  her  scarce  able  to 
crawl  from  her  bed,  shaking  with  ague,  or  burning  with 


LITTLE   FRED,  THE   CANAL  BOY  369 

fever ;  and  when  there  is  little  or  nothing  with  which  to 
replace  them,  how  fast  food  seems  to  be  consumed,  and 
clothing  to  be  worn  out !  And  so  at  length  it  came  to  pass 
that,  notwithstanding  the  labors  of  the  most  tireless  of 
needles,  and  the  cutting,  clipping,  and  contriving  of  the 
most  ingenious  of  hands,  the  poor  mother  was  forced  to 
own  to  herself  that  her  darlings  looked  really  shabby,  and 
kind  neighbors  one  by  one  hinted  and  said  that  she  must 
do  something  with  her  boy  —  that  he  was  old  enough  to 
earn  his  own  living;  and  the  same  idea  occurred  to  the 
spirited  little  fellow  himself. 

He  had  often  been  along  by  the  side  of  the  canal,  and 
admired  the  horses  ;  for  between  the  horse  and  Fred  there 
was  a  perfect  magnetic  sympathy,  and  no  lot  in  life  looked 
to  him  so  bright  and  desirable  as  to  be  able  to  sit  on  a 
horse  and  drive  all  day  long;  and  when  Captain  W.,  pleased 
with  the  boy's  bright  face  and  prompt  motions,  sought  to 
enlist  him  as  one  of  his  drivers,  he  found  a  delighted 
listener.  "  If  he  could  only  persuade  mother,  there  was 
nothing  like  it."  For  many  nights  after  the  matter  was 
proposed,  Mary  only  cried  ;  and  all  Fred's  eloquence,  and 
his  brave  promises  of  never  doing  anything  wrong,  and  be 
ing  the  best  of  all  supposable  boys,  were  insufficient  to  con 
sole  her. 

Every  time  she  looked  at  the  neat,  pure  little  bed,  beside 
her  own,  that  bed  hallowed  by  so  many  prayers,  and  saw 
her  boy,  with  his  glowing  cheeks  and  long  dark  lashes, 
sleeping  so  innocently  and  trustfully,  her  heart  died  within 
her,  as  she  thought  of  a  dirty  berth  on  the  canal  boat,  and 
rough  boatmen,  swearing,  chewing  tobacco,  and  drinking  ; 
and  should  she  take  her  darling  from  her  bosom  and  throw 
him  out  among  these  ?  Ah,  happy  mother  !  look  at  your 
little  son  of  ten  years,  and  ask  yourself,  if  you  were  obliged 
to  do  this,  should  you  not  tremble !  Give  God  thanks, 
therefore,  you  can  hold  your  child  to  your  heart  till  he  is 


370  LITTLE   FEED,   THE   CANAL   BOY 

old  enough  to  breast  the  dark  wave  of  life.  The  poor  must- 
throw  them  in,  to  sink  or  swim,  as  happens.  Not  for  ease 
—  not  for  freedom  from  care  —  not  for  commodious  house 
and  fine  furniture,  and  all  that  competence  gives,  should 
you  thank  God  so  much  as  for  this,  that  you  are  able  to 
shelter,  guide,  restrain,  and  educate  the  helpless  years  of 
your  children. 

Mary  yielded  at  last  to  that  master  who  can  subdue  all 
wills  —  necessity.  Sorrowfully,  yet  with  hope  in  God,  she 
made  up  the  little  package  for  her  boy,  and  communicated 
to  him  with  renewed  minuteness  her  parting  counsels  and 
instructions.  Fred  was  bright  and  full  of  hope.  He  was 
sure  of  the  great  point  about  which  his  mother's  anxiety 
clustered  —  he  should  be  a  good  boy,  he  knew  he  should ; 
he  never  should  swear  ;  he  never  should  touch  a  drop  of 
spirits,  no  matter  who  asked  him  —  that  he  was  sure  of. 
Then  he  liked  horses  so  much  :  he  should  ride  all  day  and 
never  get  tired,  and  he  would  come  back  and  bring  her  some 
money  ;  and  so  the  boy  and  his  mother  parted. 
•  Physical  want  or  hardship  is  not  the  great  thing  which  a 
mother  need  dread  for  her  child  in  our  country.  There  is 
scarce  any  situation  in  America  where  a  child  would  not 
receive,  as  a  matter  of  course,  good  food  and  shelter ;  nor  is 
he  often  overworked.  In  these  respects  a  general  spirit  of 
good  nature  is  perceptible  among  employers,  so  that  our 
Fred  meets  none  of  the  harrowing  adventures  of  an  Oliver 
Twist  in  his  new  situation. 

To  be  sure  he  soon  found  it  was  not  as  good  fun  to  ride  a 
horse  hour  after  hour,  and  day  after  day,  as  it  was  to  prance 
and  caper  about  for  the  first  few  minutes.  At  first  his  back 
ached,  and  his  little  hands  grew  stiff,  and  he  wished  his  turn 
were  out,  hours  before  the  time  ;  but  time  mended  all  this. 
He  grew  healthy  and  strong,  and  though  occasionally  kicked 
and  tumbled  about  rather  unceremoniously  by  the  rough 
men  among  whom  he  had  been  cast,  yet,  as  they  said,  "  he 


LITTLE  FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY  371 

was  a  chap  that  always  came  down  on  his  feet,  throw  him 
which  way  you  would ;  "  and  for  this  reason  he  was  rather 
a  favorite  among  them.  The  fat,  black  cook,  who  piqued 
himself  particularly  on  making  corn  cake  and  singing 
Methodist  hymns  in  a  style  of  unsurpassed  excellence,  took 
Fred  into  particular  favor,  and  being  equally  at  home  in 
kitchen  and  camp-meeting  lore,  not  only  put  by  for  him 
various  dainty  scraps  and  fragments,  but  .also  undertook  to 
further  his  moral  education  by  occasional  luminous  exhorta 
tions  and  expositions  of  Scripture,  which  somewhat  puzzled 
poor  Fred,  and  greatly  amused  the  deck  hands. 

Often,  after  driving  all  day,  Fred  sat  on  deck  beside  his 
fat  friend,  while  the  boat  glided  on  through  miles  and  miles 
of  solemn,  unbroken  old  woods,  and  heard  him  sing  about 
"de  New  Jerusalem,''  about  "  good  old  Moses,  and  Paul, 
and  Silas,"  with  a  kind  of  dreamy,  wild  pleasure.  To  be 
sure  it  was  not  like  his  mother's  singing ;  but  then  it  had  a 
sort  of  good  sound,  although  he  never  could  very  precisely 
make  out  the  meaning. 

As  to  being  a  good  boy,  Fred,  to  do  him  justice,  cer 
tainly  tried  to  very  considerable  purpose.  He  did  not 
swear  as  yet,  although  he  heard  so  much  of  it  daily  that  it 
seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world ;  and  although 
one  and  another  of  the  hands  often  offered  him  tempting 
portions  of  their  potations,  as  they  said,  "  to  make  a  man  of 
him,"  yet  Fred  faithfully  kept  his  little  temperance  pledge 
to  his  mother.  Many  a  weary  hour,  as  he  rode,  and  rode,  and 
rode  through  hundreds  of  miles  of  unvarying  forest,  he 
strengthened  his  good  resolutions  by  thoughts  of  home  and 
its  scenes. 

There  sat  his  mother  ;  there  stood  his  own  little  bed ; 
there  his  baby  sister,  toddling  about  in  her  night  gown ; 
and  he  repeated  the  prayers  and  sung  the  hymns  his  mother 
taught  him,  and  thus  the  good  seed  still  grew  within  him. 
In  fact,  with  no  very  distinguished  adventures,  Fred 


372  LITTLE  FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY 

achieved  the  journey  to  Cincinnati  and  back,  and  proud  of 
his  laurels,  and  with  his  wages  in  his  pocket,  found  him 
self  again  at  the  familiar  door. 

Poor  Fred !  a  sad  surprise  awaited  him.  The  elfin 
shadow  that  was  once  ever  flitting  about  the  dwelling  was 
gone ;  the  little  pattering  footsteps,  the  tireless,  busy  fin 
gers,  all  gone ;  and  his  mother,  paler,  sicker,  sadder  than 
before,  clasped  him  to  her  bosom,  and  called  him  her  only 
comfort.  Fred  had  brought  a  pocketful  of  sugar  plums, 
and  the  brightest  of  yellow  oranges  to  his  little  pet  ;  alas ! 
how  mournfully  he  regarded  them  now ! 

How  little  do  we  realize,  when  we  hear  that  such  and 
such  a  poor  woman  has  lost  her  baby,  how  much  is  implied 
to  her  in  the  loss  !  She  is  poor ;  she  must  work  hard  j  the 
child  was  a  great  addition  to  her  cares ;  and  even  pitying 
neighbors  say,  "  It  was  better  for  her,  poor  thing  !  and  for 
the  child  too.'7  But  perhaps  this  very  child  was  the  only 
flower  of  a  life  else  wholly  barren  and  desolate.  There  is 
often,  even  in  the  humblest  and  most  uncultured  nature, 
an  undefined  longing  and  pining  for  the  beautiful.  It  ex 
presses  itself  sometimes  in  the  love  of  birds  and  of  flowers, 
and  one  sees  the  rosebush  or  the  canary  bird  in  a  dwelling 
from  which  is  banished  every  trace  of  luxury.  But  the 
little  child,  with  its  sweet,  spiritual  eyes,  its  thousand  bird- 
like  tones,  its  prattling,  endearing  ways,  its  guileless,  lov 
ing  heart,  is  a  full  and  perfect  answer  to  the  most  ardent 
craving  of  the  soul.  It  is  a  whole  little  Eden  of  itself ; 
and  the  poor  woman  whose  whole  life  else  is  one  dreary 
waste  of  toil,  clasps  her  babe  to  her  bosom,  and  feels  proud, 
and  rich,  and  happy.  Truly  said  the  Son  of  God,  "  Of  such 
is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

Poor  Mary !  how  glad  she  was  to  see  her  boy  again  — 
most  of  all,  that  they  could  talk  together  of  their  lost  one  ! 
How  they  discoursed  for  hours  about  her  !  How  they  cried 
together  over  the  little  faded  bonnet,  that  once  could  scarce 


LITTLE  FEED,   THE   CANAL  BOY  373 

be  kept  for  a  moment  on  the  busy,  curly  head  !  How  they 
treasured,  as  relics,  the  small  finger  marks  on  the  doors,  and 
consecrated  with  sacred  care  even  the  traces  of  her  merry 
mischief  about  the  cottage,  and  never  tired  of  telling  over 
to  each  other,  with  smiles  and  tears,  the  record  of  the  past 
gleesome  pranks ! 

But  the  fact  was,  that  Mary  herself  was  fast  wearing  away. 
She  had  borne  up  bravely  against  life ;  but  she  had  but  a 
gentle  nature,  and  gradually  she  sank  from  day  to  day.  Fred 
was  her  patient,  unwearied  nurse,  and  neighbors  —  never 
wanting  in  such  kindness  as  they  can  understand  —  supplied 
her  few  wants.  The  child  never  wanted  for  food,  and  the 
mantel  shelf  was  filled  with  infallible  specifics,  each  one  of 
which  was  able,  according  to  the  showing,  to  insure  perfect 
recovery  in  every  case  whatever ;  and  yet,  strange  to  tell, 
she  still  declined.  At  last,  one  still  autumn  morning,  Fred 
awoke,  and  started  at  the  icy  coldness  of  the  hand  clasped  in 
his  own.  He  looked  in  his  mother's  face ;  it  was  sweet  and 
calm  as  that  of  a  sleeping  infant,  but  he  knew  in  his  heart 
that  she  was  dead. 


PAKT   II 

MONTHS  afterwards,  a  cold  December  day  found  Fred 
turned  loose  in  the  streets  of  Cincinnati.  Since  his  mother's 
death  he  had  driven  on  the  canal  boat ;  but  now  the  boat 
was  to  lie  by  for  winter,  and  the  hands,  of  course,  turned  loose 
to  find  employment  till  spring.  Fred  was  told  that  he  must 
look  up  a  place  ;  everybody  was  busy  about  their  own  affairs, 
and  he  must  shift  for  himself ;  and  so,  with  half  his  wages 
in  his  pocket,  and  promises  for  the  rest,  he  started  to  seek 
his  fortune. 

It  was  a  cold,  cheerless,  gray-eyed  day,  with  an  air  that 
pinched  fingers  and  toes,  and  seemed  to  penetrate  one's  clothes 
like  snow  water  —  such  a  day  as  it  needs  the  brightest  fire 
arid  the  happiest  heart  to  get  along  at  all  with ;  and,  unluckily, 
Fred  had  neither.  Christmas  was  approaching,  and  all  the 
shops  had  put  on  their  holiday  dresses ;  the  confectioners' 
windows  were  glittering  with  sparkling  pyramids  of  candy, 
with  frosted  cake,  and  unfading  fruits  and  flowers  of  the  very 
best  of  sugar.  There,  too,  was  Santa  Claus,  large  as  life, 
with  queer,  wrinkled  visage,  and  back  bowed  with  the  weight 
of  all  desirable  knickknacks,  going  down  chimney,  in  sight 
of  all  the  children  of  Cincinnati,  who  gathered  around  the 
shop  with  constantly-renewed  acclamations.  On  all  sides 
might  be  seen  the  little  people,  thronging,  gazing,  chattering, 
while  anxious  papas  and  mammas  in  the  shops  were  gravely 
discussing  tin  trumpets,  dolls,  spades,  wheelbarrows,  and  toy 
wagons. 

Fred  never  had  heard  of  the  man  who  said,  "  How  sad  a 
thing  it  is  to  look  into  happiness  through  another  man's 


LITTLE  FRED,   THE   CANAL   BOY  375 

eyes  !  "  but  he  felt  something  very  like  it  as  he  moved 
through  the  gay  and  bustling  streets,  where  everybody 
seemed  to  be  finding  what  they  wanted  but  himself. 

He  had  determined  to  keep  up  a  stout  heart ;  but,  in 
spite  of  himself,  all  this  bustling  show  and  merriment 
made  him  feel  sadder  and  sadder,  and  lonelier  and  lonelier. 
He  knocked  and  rang  at  door  after  door,  but  nobody 
wanted  a  boy ;  nobody  ever  does  want  a  boy  when  a  boy  is 
wanting  a  place.  He  got  tired  of  ringing  door  bells,  and 
tried  some  of  the  shops.  No,  they  did  n't  want  him.  One 
said  if  he  was  bigger  he  might  do,  another  wanted  to  know 
if  he  could  keep  accounts;  one  thought  that  the  man 
around  the  corner  wanted  a  boy,  and  when  Fred  got  there 
he  had  just  engaged  one.  Weary,  disappointed,  and  dis 
couraged,  he  sat  down  by  the  iron  railing  that  fenced  a 
showy  house,  and  thought  what  he  should  do.  It  was  al 
most  five  in  the  afternoon  :  cold,  dismal,  leaden-gray  was 
the  sky  —  the  darkness  already  coming  on.  Fred  sat  list 
lessly  watching  the  great  snow  feathers,  as  they  slowly 
sailed  down  from  the  sky.  Now  he  heard  gay  laughs,  as 
groups  of  merry  children  passed;  and  then  he  started,  as 
he  saw  some  woman  in  a  black  bonnet,  and  thought  she 
looked  like  his  mother.  But  all  passed,  and  nobody  looked 
at  him,  nobody  wanted  him,  nobody  noticed  him. 

Just  then  a  patter  of  little  feet  was  heard  behind  him 
on  the  flagstones,  and  a  soft  baby  voice  said,  "  How  do  ?oo 
do  ? "  Fred  turned  in  amazement ;  and  there  stood  a 
plump,  rosy  little  creature  of  about  two  years,  with  dimpled 
cheek,  ruby  lips,  and  long,  fair  hair  curling  about  her  sweet 
face.  She  was  dressed  in  a  blue  pelisse,  trimmed  with 
swan's  down,  and  her  complexion  was  so  exquisitely  fair, 
her  eyes  so  clear  and  sweet,  that  Fred  felt  almost  as  if  it 
were  an  angel.  The  little  thing  toddled  up  to  him,  and 
holding  up  before  him  a  new  wax  doll,  all  splendid  in  silk 
and  lace,  seemed  quite  disposed  to  make  his  acquaintance. 


376  LITTLE   FEED,   THE   CANAL  BOY 

Fred  thought  of  his  lost  sister,  and  his  eyes  filled  up  with 
tears.  The  little  one  put  up  one  dimpled  hand  to  wipe 
them  away,  while  with  the  other  holding  up  before  him 
the  wax  doll,  she  said,  coaxingly,  "  No  no  ky." 

Just  then  the  house  door  opened,  and  a  lady,  richly 
dressed,  darted  out,  exclaiming,  "Why,  Mary,  you  little 
rogue,  how  came  you  out  here  ?  "  Then  stopping  short, 
and  looking  narrowly  on  Fred,  she  said,  somewhat  sharply, 
"  Whose  boy  are  you  ?  and  how  came  you  here  ?  " 

"  1 'm  nobody's  boy,"  said  Fred,  getting  up,  with  a 
bitter  choking  in  his  throat ;  "  my  mother  's  dead ;  I  only 
sat  down  here  to  rest  me  for  a  while." 

"  Well,  run  away  from  here,"  said  the  lady ;  but  the 
little  girl  pressed  before  her  mother,  and  jabbering  very 
earnestly  in  unimaginable  English,  seemed  determined  to 
give  Fred  her  wax  doll,  in  which,  she  evidently  thought, 
resided  every  possible  consolation. 

The  lady  felt  in  her  pocket  and  found  a  quarter,  which 
she  threw  towards  Fred.  "  There,  my  boy,  that  will  get 
you  lodging  and  supper,  and  to-morrow  you  can  find  some 
place  to  work,  I  dare  say ;  "  and  she  hurried  in  with  the 
little  girl,  and  shut  the  door. 

It  was  not  money  that  Fred  wanted  just  then,  and  he 
picked  up  the  quarter  with  a  heavy  heart.  The  sky  looked 
darker,  and  the  street  drearier,  and  the  cold  wind  froze  the 
tear  on  his  cheeks  as  he  walked  listlessly  down  the  street 
in  the  dismal  twilight.  "  I  can  go  back  to  the  canal  boat, 
and  find  the  cook,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "  He  told  me 
I  might  sleep  with  him  to-night  if  I  could  n't  find  a  place  ; " 
and  he  quickened  his  steps  with  this  determination.  Just 
as  he  was  passing  a  brightly  lighted  coffee  house,  familiar 
voices  hailed  him,  and  Fred  stopped  ;  he  would  be  glad  even 
to  see  a  dog  he  had  ever  met  before,  and  of  course  he  was 
glad  when  two  boys,  old  canal  boat  acquaintances,  hailed 
him,  and  invited  him  into  the  coffee  house.  The  blazing 


LITTLE   FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY  377 

fire  was  a  brave  light  on  that  dismal  night,  and  the  faces 
of  the  two  boys  were  full  of  glee,  and  they  began  rallying 
Fred  on  his  doleful  appearance,  and  insisting  on  it  that 
he  should  take  something  warm  with  them. 

Fred  hesitated  a  moment ;  but  he  was  tired  and  desperate, 
and  the  steaming,  well-sweetened  beverage  was  too  tempting. 

"  Who  cares  for  me  ?  "  thought  he,  "  and  why  should  I 
care  ?  "  and  down  went  the  first  spirituous  liquor  the  boy 
had  ever  tasted ;  and  in  a  few  moments  he  felt  a  wonder 
ful  change.  He  was  no  longer  a  timid,  cold,  disheartened, 
heart-sick  boy,  but  felt  somehow  so  brave,  so  full  of  hope 
and  courage,  that  he  began  to  swagger,  to  laugh  very  loud, 
and  to  boast  in  such  high  terms  of  the  money  in  his  pocket, 
and  of  his  future  intentions  and  prospects,  that  the  two 
boys  winked  significantly  at  each  other.  They  proposed, 
after  sitting  a  while,  to  walk  out  and  see  the  shop  windows. 
All  three  of  the  boys  had  taken  enough  to  put  them  to 
extra  merriment ;  but  Fred,  who  was  entirely  unused  to 
the  stimulant,  was  quite  beside  himself.  If  they  sung,  he 
shouted ;  if  they  laughed,  he  screamed  ;  and  he  thought 
within  himself  he  never  had  heard  and  thought  so  many 
witty  things  as  on  that  very  evening.  At  last  they  fell  in 
with  quite  a  press  of  boys,  who  were  crowding  round  a  con 
fectionery  window,  and,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  there  began 
an  elbowing  and  scuffling  contest  for  places,  in  which  Fred 
was  quite  conspicuous.  At  last  a  big  boy  presumed  on  his 
superior  size  to  edge  in  front  of  our  hero,  and  cut  off  his 
prospect ;  and  Fred,  without  more  ado,  sent  him  smashing 
through  the  shop  window.  There  was  a  general  scrabble, 
every  one  ran  for  himself,  and  Fred,  never  having  been 
used  to  the  business,  was  not  very  skillful  in  escaping,  and 
of  course  was  caught  and  committed  to  an  officer,  who, 
with  small  ceremony,  carried  him  off  and  locked  him  up  in 
the  watch  house,  from  which  he  was  the  next  morning 
taken  before  the  mayor,  and  after  examination  sent  to  jail. 


378  LITTLE   FRED,   THE   CANAL   BOY 

This  sobered  Fred.  He  came  to  himself  as  out  of  a 
dream,  and  he  was  overwhelmed  with  an  agony  of  shame 
and  self-reproach.  He  had  broken  his  promise  to  his  dead 
mother  —  he  had  been  drinking  !  and  his  heart  failed  him 
when  he  thought  of  the  horrors  that  his  mother  had  always 
associated  with  that  word.  And  then  he  was  in  jail  —  that 
place  that  his  mother  had  always  represented  as  an  almost 
impossible  horror,  the  climax  of  shame  and  disgrace.  The 
next  night  the  poor  boy  stretched  himself  on  his  hard, 
lonely  bed,  and  laid  under  his  head  his  little  bundle,  con 
taining  his  few  clothes  and  his  mother's  Bible,  and  then 
sobbed  himself  to  sleep. 

Cold  and  gray  dawned  the  following  morning  on  little 
Fred,  as  he  slowly  and  heavily  awoke,  and  with  a  bitter 
chill  of  despair  recalled  the  events  of  the  last  two  nights, 
and  looked  up  at  the  iron-grated  window,  and  round  on  the 
cheerless  walls  ;  and,  as  if  in  bitter  contrast,  arose  before 
him  an  image  of  his  lost  home  —  the  neat,  quiet  room,  the 
white  curtains  and  snowy  floor,  his  mother's  bed,  with  his 
own  little  cot  beside  it,  and  his  mother's  mild  blue  eyes,  as 
they  looked  upon  him  only  six  months  ago.  Mechanically 
he  untied  the  check  handkerchief  which  contained  his  few 
clothes,  and  worldly  possessions,  and  relics  of  home. 

There  was  the  small,  clean-printed  Bible  his  mother  had 
given  him  with  so  many  tears  on  their  first  parting ;  there 
was  a  lock  of  her  soft  brown  hair  ;  there,  too,  were  a  pair 
of  little  worn  shoes  and  stockings,  a  baby's  rattle,  and  a  curl 
of  golden  hair,  which  he  had  laid  up  in  memory  of  his  lost 
little  pet.  Fred  laid  his  head  down  over  all  these,  his  for 
lorn  treasures,  and  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 

After  a  while  the  jailer  came  in,  and  really  seemed  af 
fected  by  the  distress  of  the  child,  and  said  what  he  could  to 
console  him ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  day,  as  the  boy 
"  seemed  to  be  so  lonesome  like,"  he  introduced  another  boy 
into  the  room  as  company  for  him.  This  was  a  cruel 


LITTLE  FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY  379 

mercy ;  for  while  the  child  was  alone  with  himself  and 
the  memories  of  the  past,  he  was,  if  sad,  at  least  safe,  and 
in  a  few  hours  after  his  new  introduction  he  was  neither. 
His  new  companion  was  a  tall  boy  of  fourteen,  with  small, 
cunning,  gray  eyes,  to  which  a  slight  cast  gave  an  additional 
expression  of  shrewdness  and  drollery.  He  was  a  young 
gentleman  of  great  natural  talent,  —  in  a  certain  line,  — 
with  very  precocious  attainments  in  all  that  kind  of  infor 
mation  which  a  boy  gains  by  running  at  large  for  several 
years  in  the  city's  streets  without  anything  particular  to  do, 
or  anybody  in  particular  to  obey  —  any  conscience,  any  prin 
ciple,  any  fear  either  of  God  or  man.  We  should  not  say 
that  he  had  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  church,  for  he  had 
been,  for  various  purposes,  into  every  one  of  the  city,  and 
to  every  camp-meeting  for  miles  around  ;  and  so  much  had  he 
profited  by  these  exercises,  that  he  could  mimic  to  perfection 
every  minister  who  had  any  perceptible  peculiarity,  could 
caricature  every  species  of  psalm-singing,  and  give  ludicrous 
imitations  of  every  form  of  worship.  Then  he  was  au  fait 
in  all  coffee  house  lore,  and  knew  the  names  and  qualities 
of  every  kind  of  beverage  therein  compounded  ;  and  as  to 
smoking  and  chewing,  the  first  elements  of  which  he  mas 
tered  when  he  was  about  six  years  old,  he  was  now  a  con 
noisseur  in  the  higher  branches.  He  had  been  in  jail  dozens 
of  times  —  rather  liked  the  fun ;  had  served  one  term  on 
the  chain-gang  —  not  so  bad  either  —  should  n't  mind  an 
other  —  learned  a  good  many  prime  things  there. 

At  first  Fred  seemed  inclined  to  shrink  from  his  new  asso 
ciate.  An  instinctive  feeling,  like  the  warning  of  an  invis 
ible  angel,  seemed  to  whisper,  "  Beware ! "  But  he  was 
alone,  with  a  heart  full  of  bitter  thoughts,  and  the  sight  of  a 
fellow-face  was  some  comfort.  Then  his  companion  was  so 
dashing,  so  funny,  so  free  and  easy,  and  seemed  to  make  such 
a  comfortable  matter  of  being  in  jail,  that  Fred's  heart,  nat 
urally  buoyant,  began  to  come  up  again  in  his  breast.  Dick 


380  LITTLE  FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY 

Jones  soon  drew  out  of  him  his  simple  history  as  to  how  he 
came  there,  and  finding  that  he  was  a  raw  hand,  seemed  to 
feel  bound  to  patronize  and  take  him  under  his  wing.  He 
laughed  quite  heartily  at  Fred's  story,  and  soon  succeeded 
in  getting  him  to  laugh  at  it  too. 

How  strange  !  —  the  very  scenes  that  in  the  morning  he 
looked  at  only  with  bitter  anguish  and  remorse,  this  noon  he 
was  laughing  at  as  good  jokes  —  so  much  for  the  influence 
of  good  society !  An  instinctive  feeling,  soon  after  Dick 
Jones  came  in,  led  Fred  to  push  his  little  bundle  into  the 
farthest  corner,  under  the  bed,  far  out  of  sight  or  inquiry  j 
and  the  same  reason  led  him  to  suppress  all  mention  of  his 
mother,  and  all  the  sacred  part  of  his  former  life.  He  did 
this  more  studiously,  because,  having  once  accidentally  re 
marked  how  his  mother  used  to  forbid  him  certain  things, 
the  well-educated  Dick  broke  out,  — 

"  Well,  for  my  part,  I  could  whip  my  mother  when  I 
wa'n't  higher  than  that !  "  with  a  significant  gesture. 

"  Whip  your  mother  !  "  exclaimed  Fred,  with  a  face  full 
of  horror. 

"  To  be  sure,  greenie !  Why  not  ?  Precious  fun  it 
was  in  those  times.  I  used  to  slip  in  and  steal  the  old  wo 
man's  whiskey  and  sugar  when  she  was  just  too  far  over  to 
walk  a  crack  —  she  'd  throw  the  tongs  at  me,  and  I  'd  throw 
the  shovel  at  her,  and  so  it  went  square  and  square." 

Goethe  says  somewhere,  "  Miserable  is  that  man  whose 
'mother  has  not  made  all  other  mothers  venerable."  Our 
new  acquaintance  bade  fair  to  come  under  this  category. 

Fred's  education,  under  this  talented  instructor,  made 
progress.  He  sat  hours  and  hours  laughing  at  his  stories 
—  sometimes  obscene,  sometimes  profane,  but  always  so  full 
of  life,  drollery,  and  mimicry  that  a  more  steady  head  than 
Fred's  was  needed  to  withstand  the  contagion.  Dick  had 
been  to  the  theatre  —  knew  it  all  like  a  book,  and  would 
take  Fred  there  as  soon  as  they  got  out ;  then  he  had  a 


LITTLE   FRED,  THE   CANAL   BOY  381 

first-rate  pack  of  cards,  and  lie  could  teach  Fred  to  play ; 
and  the  gay  tempters  were  soon  spread  out  on  their  bed, 
and  Fred  and  his  instructor  sat  hour  after  hour  asborbed 
in  what  to  him  was  a  new  world  of  interest.  He  soon 
learned,  could  play  for  small  stakes,  and  felt  in  himself  the 
first  glimmering  of  that  fire  which,  when  fully  kindled, 
many  waters  cannot  quench,  nor  floods  drown  ! 

Dick  was,  as  we  said,  precocious.  He  had  the  cool  eye 
and  steady  hand  of  an  experienced  gamester,  and  jn  a  few 
days  he  won,  of  course,  all  Fred's  little  earnings.  But 
then  he  was  quite  liberal  and  free  with  his  money.  He 
added  to  their  prison  fare  such  various  improvements  as  his 
abundance  of  money  enabled  him  to  buy.  He  had  brought 
with  him  the  foundation  of  good  cheer  in  a  capacious  bottle 
which  emerged  the  first  night  from  his  pocket,  for  he  said 
he  never  went  to  jail  without  his  provision ;  then  hot 
water,  and  sugar,  and  lemons,  and  peppermint  drops  were 
all  forthcoming  for  money,  and  Fred  learned  once  and  again, 
and  again,  the  fatal  secret  of  hushing  conscience,  and 
memory,  and  bitter  despair  in  delirious  happiness,  and,  as 
Dick  said,  was  "  getting  to  be  a  right  jolly  'un  that  would 
make  something  yet.'7 

And  was  it  all  gone,  all  washed  away  by  this  sudden 
wave  of  evil  ?  —  every  trace  of  prayer,  and  hope,  and  sacred 
memory  in  this  poor  child's  heart  ?  No,  not  all ;  for 
many  a  night,  when  his  tempter  slept  by  his  side,  the  child 
lived  over  the  past ,  again  he  kneeled  in  prayer,  and  felt 
his  mother's  guardian  hand  on  his  head,  and  he  wept  tears 
of  bitter  remorse,  and  wondered  at  the  dread  change  that 
had  come  over  him.  Then  he  dreamed,  and  he  saw  his 
mother  and  sister  walking  in  white,  fair  as  angels,  and  would 
go  to  them  ;  but  between  him  and  them  was  a  great  gulf 
fixed,  which  widened  and  widened,  and  grew  darker  and 
darker,  till  he  could  see  them  no  more,  and  he  awoke  in 
utter  misery  and  despair. 


382  LITTLE   FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY 

Again  and  again  he  resolved,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night, 
that  to-morrow  he  would  not  drink,  and  he  would  not  speak 
a  wicked  word,  and  he  would  not  play  cards,  nor  laugh  at 
Dick's  bad  stories.  Ah,  how  many  such  midnight  resolves 
have  evil  angels  sneered  at  and  good  ones  sighed  over  !  for 
with  daylight  back  comes  the  old  temptation,  and  with  it 
the  old  mind ;  and  with  daylight  came  back  the  inexorable 
prison  walls  which  held  Fred  and  his  successful  tempter 
together. 

At  last  he  gave  himself  up.  No,  he  could  not  be  good 
with  Dick  —  there  was  no  use  in  trying  !  —  and  he  made 
no  more  midnight  resolves,  and  drank  more  freely  of  the 
dreadful  remedy  for  unquiet  thoughts. 

And  now  is  Fred  growing  in  truth  a  wicked  boy.  In  a 
little  while  more  and  he  shall  be  such  a  one  as  you  will  on 
no  account  take  under  your  roof,  lest  he  corrupt  your  own 
children  ;  and  yet,  father,  mother,  look  at  your  son  of  twelve 
years,  your  bright,  darling  boy,  and  think  of  him  shut  up 
for  a  month  with  such  a  companion,  in  such  a  cell,  and  ask 
yourselves  if  he  would  be  any  better. 

And  was  there  no  eye,  heavenly  or  earthly,  to  look  after 
this  lost  one  ?  Was  there  no  eye  which  could  see,  through 
all  the  traces  of  sin,  the  yet  lingering  drops  of  that  baptism 
and  early  prayer  and  watchfulness  which  consecrated  it  ? 
Yes ;  He  whose  mercy  extends  to  the  third  and  fourth  gen 
erations  of  those  who  love  him,  sent  a  friend  to  our  poor 
boy  in  his  last  distress. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  refined  and  characteristic  modifica 
tions  of  Christianity,  that  those  who  are  themselves  shel 
tered,  guarded,  fenced  by  good  education,  knowledge,  and 
competence,  appoint  and  sustain  a  pastor  and  guardian  in 
our  large  cities  to  be  the  shepherd  of  the  wandering  and 
lost,  and  of  them  who,  in  the  Scripture  phrase,  "  have  none 
to  help."  Justly  is  he  called  the  "  City  Missionary,"  for 
what  is  more  truly  missionary  ground  ?  In  the  hospital, 


LITTLE  FRED,   THE   CANAL  BOY  383 

among  the  old,  the  sick,  the  friendless,  the  forlorn  —  in  the 
prison,  among  the  hardened,  the  blaspheming  —  among  the 
discouraged  and  despairing,  still  holding  with  unsteady  hand 
on  to  some  forlorn  fragment  of  virtue  and  self-respect,  goes 
this  missionary  to  stir  the  dying  embers  of  good,  to  warn, 
entreat,  implore,  to  adjure  by  sacred  recollections  of  father, 
mother,  and  home,  the  fallen  wanderers  to  return.  He 
finds  friends,  and  places,  and  employment  for  some,  and  by 
timely  aid  and  encouragement  saves  many  a  one  from 
destruction. 

In  this  friendly  shape  appeared  a  man  of  prayer  to  visit 
the  cell  in  which  Fred  was  confined.  Dick  listened  to  his 
instructions  with  cool  complacency,  rolling  his  tobacco  from 
side  to  side  in  his  mouth,  and  meditating  on  him  as  a  sub 
ject  for  some  future  histrionic  exercise  of  his  talent. 

But  his  voice  was  as  welcome  to  poor  Fred  as  daylight  in 
a  dungeon.  All  the  smothered  remorse  and  despair  of  his 
heart  burst  forth  in  bitter  confessions,  as,  with  many  tears, 
he  poured  forth  his  story  to  the  friendly  man.  It  needs 
not  to  prolong  our  story,  for  now  the  day  has  dawned  and 
the  hour  of  release  is  come. 

It  is  not  needful  to  carry  our  readers  through  all  the  steps 
by  which  Fred  was  transferred,  first  to  the  fireside  of  the 
friendly  missionary,  and  afterwards  to  the  guardian  care  of 
a  good  old  couple  who  resided  on  a  thriving  farm  not  far 
from  Cincinnati.  Set  free  from  evil  influences,  the  first 
carefully  planted  and  watered  seeds  of  good  began  to  grow 
again,  and  he  became  as  a  son  to  the  kind  family  who  had 
adopted  him. 


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BERKELEY 

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2*1957 
REC'D  LD 
APR  2  4  1957 
OCT  1  7  2001 


LD  21-100m-7,'52(A2528sl6)476 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


